Sleepless Nights
by Anna Black
Summary: After a particularly nasty Potions class, Hermione recieves two months of detention. Instead of wasting precious time with essays, Snape asks for her help with a potion. Currently being revised up to Chapter 3 updated. Chapter 4 onward are in the process
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: All I truly own is my soul and my imagination. So, technically, I can't own these characters. And I'll be the first to tell that to a lawyer.

Sleepless Nights

Chapter One:

Stand By Your Man

'Well,' thought Harry as he added another piece of bacon to his mouth, 'all's fair in love at least. In basically three weeks, Ron has finally confessed to Hermione that he's loved her for three years, asked her if she would go out with him, she accepted, and they've argued seventeen times about homework.'

It was five weeks into their seventh year. Hermione had accepted the offer of Head Girl (the bonus of having a room of her own was too tempting to pass up), and was no different on her views of the world. But the world somehow had all of a sudden decided to view her differently. And most of those "new viewers" concerned the male species.

It seemed that over the summer, when Harry and Ron weren't looking, Hermione had grown up. Her hair seemed no longer annoyingly bushy, but soft and full. And for the first time in six years, Harry had noticed how… comfortable her eyes were. 'Good thing Ron finally got around to asking her out first,' he thought as he watched Hedwig fly towards him with another letter attached to her leg. 'I don't know if I'd been able to refrain from asking her myself much longer.'

As Hedwig fluttered gracefully onto the table, she snatched the piece of toast from Hermione's fingers and offered Harry the _Daily Prophet _tied to her leg. Most of it was filled with rubbish and panic, but occasionally something worthwhile would turn up. The obituaries were a particularly frightening section. Hedwig stepped onto his arm and began pruning her feathers as Harry read aloud.

A sinister-looking black owl landed in front of Hermione. It refused the bacon she offered and held out its left foot.

"That is one nasty owl. I wonder whose it is?" commented Ron, clearly puzzled.

Hermione opened the letter and remarked casually, "Oh, it's Viktor's. I've told you before; we still write each other, even though we broke up two years ago."

Ron spat out his orange juice. "What?" he coughed.

"Oh, Ron," she laughed. "It's not like we're exchanging love letters or anything! We're just friends now. Besides, he writes about matter I find interesting. Like here." She cleared her throat and read out loud,

"Dear Hermione,

I've just gotten off Quidditch training camp. Gregarian insists that it won't be the Keeper's fault we lose the World Cup this year again. And I doubt it will be our Keeper's fault. He's actually very good; the blame falls on another party Gregarian's too blind to realize for the talent-less idiots they are.

Our Chasers still suck, so I don't understand why he blames Leszertoff.

Anyway, Gregarian seems even more determined than last year to make sure I'm not attacked. I spend more time dodging Bodyguards than Bludgers!

I also wanted to warn you, teams are already betting on who's going to get the famous Harry Potter. You might want to tell him to watch it once he leaves Hogwarts (Just a personal suggestion: Ireland could really use a much better Seeker. I'm growing tired of catching the Snitch every year.)."

Harry gasped "How can anyone grow tired of catching the Snitch?"

Ron was grumbling something underneath his breath.

"What?" asked Hermione. "I didn't hear you."

"I said," growled Ron, "that I bet your letter has other things besides Quidditch in it."

The smile fell from Hermione's face to be replaced by a deadly frown. "Ron, listen to me, because I'm getting sick of telling you: You are my boyfriend. End of story. There's no one else. Just because I have friends besides you and Harry doesn't mean I'm having an affair with them. It's your problem you care so much you're paranoid about it. Just cool it, okay? It's not as if I'm going to cheat on you."

Ron nodded, but Harry noticed he didn't quite meet her eyes. He'd have to talk with Ron later.

Hermione drained the last bit of juice from her goblet and stood up. Grabbing her bag and stuffing the letter in her pocket, she said, "I'm going to head on down to Potions and reserve us some seats in the back. I'll see you later."

The door banged shut behind her.

Ron commenced with his eggs while Harry glared at him.

-

As Hermione stalked down the hall, fuming that Ron didn't trust her at all, she collided with someone. The flurry of papers in the air made her groan when she realized there were too many for it to be a student. To make matters worse, as one fluttered in front of her face, she recognized her handwriting and the large red "104" at the top. She blindly reached for the papers floating in the air and the ones on the floor beside her and stopped when she heard a rich chuckle to her left. She looked and blushed when she realized that she had run smack into their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin.

He was still laughing as he drew out his battered wand. Hermione stuttered out, "Professor Lupin! I'm so sorry! I was coming from breakfast, and I was too busy thinking to notice where I was going, and -"

"Hermione," Professor held up a hand as papers flew into the other. "Call me Remus. Everyone else does."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at that.

"Now, I am on my way to the library to search for a Book-snake. You probably know the library better than I could ever hope to. Could you give me a suggestion as to where to look?"

Hermione reached for her bag and pulled out a tiny mason jar. "Here, Professor. I keep meaning to get rid of these. Whenever I find one, I shrink them and put them in here. They're not hurt – just a little hungry."

Professor Lupin took the jar and beamed at her. "Thank you, Hermione. That's one less chore for me to run. You wouldn't happen to have a boggart in there would you?"

She laughed. "No, but I imagine there's one in the first year Gryffindor boys' closet. Every morning Greg Spinnett comes tearing into the Common Room at 7:42 screaming bloody murder."

He looked at his watch and frowned. "You better hurry down to Potions, Miss Granger, or else you'll be late."

Slinging her books over her shoulder and racing down the hall, Lupin shouted after her, "I'll add twenty points to Gryffindor for your help!"

-

To her utmost horror and everyone's shock, Hermione burst into the Potions classroom with everyone already seated and Professor Snape taking the usual morning five points off for Harry's "lack of respectful behavior towards his betters."

He looked up as she desperately attempted not to appear tired. "Miss Granger," he hissed from between his thin lips, "ten points off Gryffindor for being late and another five for disrupting class. My, my, my. You Gryffindors can't seem to keep out of trouble this morning. That's twenty points you've managed to lose your house so far." Hermione knew without looking that Ron was mentally thinking of ways to murder Snape without doing anything illegal.

And her mind registered the usual event of Malfoy laughing loudest of all the Slytherins.

"But Miss Granger! You seem to lack a partner!" Snape exclaimed as Hermione began setting up her cauldron. "No wonder no one wants to work with you; I've already assigned Longbottom a partner." The Slytherins laughed again, and the blood in her brain began pumping furiously, coming up with gruesome ways to castrate her Potions Master.

"Gregory Goyle!" he barked, and Hermione had to clutch the table to keep from collapsing. "Go work with Thomas!" Hermione relaxed her grip until she realized she'd been landed with-

"Granger! Come set up with Draco."

Quickly but gingerly, she set her things inside her cauldron and carried it to the front of the dearly hated dungeon. "Polyjuice," mouthed Ron, and Hermione tilted her head in thanks.

Snape shook his head as Hermione lifted her supplies onto the counter. "Just because you're a girl doesn't give you the excuse to be weak, Miss Granger. Perhaps you could stop trying to hold up class?"

Hermione dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from hexing Snape until he begged for mercy. Snape mistook the wince of pain for submission and said calmly to the rest of the class, "Once you need the bicorn hair and the boomslang skin," Hermione tried desperately not to attract an iota of attention, "come and ask me for them." With a sharp turn of his heel, his cloak nearly brushed her nose. Malfoy grinned as she leaned back to avoid a close encounter of the woolen kind. Hermione was reminded why Ron threatened so often to "get even this year."

Hermione began pulling out the necessary ingredients and setting them on the counter. She was faintly aware of Malfoy swapping a few of her fresher herbs for his crumbling, decayed ones. She bit her lips, reminding herself that she was in enough trouble already.

Her cauldron was boiling when she extinguished the fire and muttered under her breath a quick charm to restore some youth and the essential oils to the frayed leaves sitting in her bowl. Malfoy scowled that she wasn't that easily deterred. Hermione let her mind rejoice, but pursed her lips. This was a delicate part; if she put the leaves in a second too early or a second too late, the entire potion would be rendered useless, and she would most definitely not receive a passing grade.

"Worried, Mudblood?" a voice hissed in her ear.

'Just my luck. Count on Malfoy to be a twit when I need to concentrate.'

"After all, you are the most useless of all the pathetic bitches I know. I've even heard you're still a virgin."

Hermione gritted her teeth, knowing this conversation would turn out nasty, one way or another.

"So is Weasley as bad as I knew he was? No wonder you're still 'pure. If I had that for a boyfriend, I wouldn't let him anywhere near my bed."

Hermione added the finely ground dragon-snap wings and felt tempted to throw the empty bowl at Draco's head, but merely resolved for slamming it down onto the dull counter-top.

Draco grinned at the response he was getting. "A little tense, are we? I'm sure you'd be eager to let me… loosen you up." Hermione reached out her left arm with her final bowl of ingredients (lacewings), and Draco wrapped his arm around her waist. He whispered in what he obviously thought was an irresistible, drop dead sexy voice, "Anytime you get sick of those boring Gryffindors, just remember that I'll be willing to teach you a few tricks."

Hermione's temper flared, and she no longer cared about house points. Judging from the near silent exclamations of Gryffindor voices behind her, they weren't that worried about it, either. Spinning around, she raised a hand and slapped him, hard, for the second time in both of their lives. She was both surprised and pleased to see him fall to the floor.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she screeched, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Professor Snape look up from his desk. "YOU CONCEITED, DISGUSTING, HEARTLESS, PERVERTED PRICK! HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT ABOUT ME!" She pulled out her wand and pointed directly between his eyes. He shut them, and a cold yet strangely soothing voice behind her murmured:

"I think that should be enough Miss Granger."

She spun around and found her eyes staring at the pale, dry palm of Professor Snape. She hadn't quite realized how tall he was from the back of the class. Actually, the top of her head was near even with his shoulder. But it wasn't his height, she decided. His voice was the secret to his crushing intimidation.

"I think proper punishment should be two months detention for you, Miss Granger, and fifty points from Slytherin for you, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy's eyes popped open, and he began to stutter. "B-B-But Professor! She attacked me!"

"Of course, Draco, I could not deduct fifty points and send a letter to your father instead," growled Professor Snape. Malfoy shut his mouth with an audible snap and stared at his shoes.

"Never mind, sir."

"That's what I thought. Now, Miss Granger, your first detention will be here at seven and will end at nine-thirty. We'll discuss the next two months then." And with another sweep of his cloak, he returned to his desk, leaving Hermione confused, and trying desperately to decide which of the two Slytherins she should spend the rest of the class hating.

"Get up, you pathetic bastard," she hissed at Malfoy. It lifted her heart to see him scramble to meet her request.

As he pulled himself up, he realized what he was doing, and Hermione beat him to the biting remark. "And I'd prefer you to not steal my ingredients again. Whoever heard of a Malfoy stealing from and trying to seduce a Muggle-born in one day?" He gritted his teeth, and Hermione smiled to herself in a way that would've sent Salazar Slytherin himself screaming for his mummy.

-

"Hermione!" sobbed Neville once they had left the classroom, each of her friends looking extremely worried. "This is all my fault!"

Hermione switched her brain mode from "nasty and liking it" to "be nice to the stupid little flobber-humans."

"Neville, it's not your fault. Besides, that was building up, and Malfoy had it coming." She smiled sweetly, thinking to herself how fake the expression felt.

Ron grinned and hugged her, spinning her around at an elevation of about six inches higher than usual, and that was with her shoes on. "The only image I can think of better than that was when Crouch turned Malfoy into a bouncing ferret!" Everyone behind them laughed. "Just think! A Muggle-born holding Draco Malfoy at wand-point!"

Hermione scowled, and Ron set her back down to Earth with a "thunk."

"So you don't think I could beat up a 'pure-blood'?" she hissed. Harry backed away, almost tempted to run. When Hermione shouted and snarled, she was ready to hex. When she whispered, she was ready to hex everything.

Ron seemed to be receiving some kind of radiation, and he looked sick. "No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" He was too late.

"Well, in case any doubt is in your mind, let's get rid of it now, shall we?"

Ron gulped.

Hermione's eyes glazed over, and Harry couldn't think straight. From the looks of it, no one but Hermione could either. Around him, Ron and Neville fell to their knees. Harry, Seamus, and Dean fell to one knee. Harry didn't seem to be able to lift his eyes from the dungeon floor. This was worse than the Imperius Curse was; he didn't have a little voice in his head to ignore. The little voice had been replaced by a powerful, gripping, invisible hand. Harry was sure even Hagrid wasn't this strong. This must be what pure magic felt like when it was turned against you.

Hermione casually strolled over to Ron and wrenched his neck from its stiff position so that his eyes had no choice but to be swallowed in hers. "Never, ever think my magic is weaker than a so-called 'pure-blood's' again." She dropped his chin and stalked out of the circle back towards the central nervous system of the castle. After the sound of her footsteps had died out, they all collapsed to the floor.

Panting, Ron managed to gasp out, "My dad's told me about this. He says it's powerful magic only witches can do. It's supposed to be called PMS."

-

Hermione sat down at the table between Lavender Brown and Dennis Creevey. Both were preoccupied with the person next to them, so she wasn't bothered. This happened to be exactly what she wanted.

She knew she shouldn't have used such powerful magic on the boys. They hadn't been as thrilled as she was to find that with their seventh year came unlimited access to the Restricted Section. Neville spent all of his time looking up one thing: the Cruciatus Curse and its effects. Hermione had been almost ashamed when she had asked him for help on her extra credit report (Ron's response had been, "What the hell do you need extra credit for? You've got the highest wizarding GPA since Agrippa!"). But for once in a subject besides Herbology, Neville had been sure about what he was explaining. It did her heart good to know there were other people in Gryffindor who did thorough research.

Hermione noticed Lavender and Parvati's giggling had transferred to whispering, and it was giving Hermione a migraine. Pouring water into her goblet, she pulled a small packet of powder out of her purse. Tearing it open and tossing it back in her throat, she grabbed the water and tried to get rid of the wretched taste.

She felt several pairs of eyes watching her and didn't turn around to try to figure out to whom they belonged. Putting her head in her hands, she began to massage her temples tenderly. A small sigh escaped her lips and a cold tear tickled her cheek and dripped onto her smoked salmon.

"Hermione?" a small voice to her left whispered. It slowly registered as Lavender's, but Hermione couldn't remember hearing her ever sound so kind. She sounded, well, sincere.

"What is it now Lavender?" Hermione replied, slightly surprised to hear her voice sound so worn out.

"I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone. Half the people Draco's claimed to have slept with, he's only made failing passes at them and can't stand to own up to the embarrassment. I'm almost surprised that he's gotten so stupid as to attempt it in class. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, if you ever decide to organize revenge, you've got the female half of Hogwarts behind you."

Hermione looked up into Lavender's purple eyes, and felt the corners of her mouth start to stretch. It felt foreign. She hadn't honestly smiled in a week at least.

"Thank you, Lavender. You too, Parvati." The two girls blushed and murmured something like, "Oh, it's nothing," or, "Don't worry about it."

"And I'm really sorry about your rabbit, Lavender."

She appeared puzzled, so Hermione added, "In your third year, your baby rabbit died."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Listen, what's past is past. And it's kind of stupid to argue about the future, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm glad you two finally see it the way I do."

There was a pause, and in that pause, years of enmity were washed away.

"So, what's it been like to be surrounded by boys all the time?"

Hermione shuddered. "It's a nightmare at times, and a blast at others. They forget you're a girl most of the time, and treat you as an equal, but when you can't help but be feminine, they treat you like a porcelain doll. They finally noticed I am a girl and aren't quite treating me the same. But I'm actually kind of glad. I get more respect, I think. Besides, Ron finally worked up the nerve to ask me out. I mean, it's like he thought it would be either an act of treason, or make him look gay."

Parvati giggled. "So what's it like to date him? My sister said the Yule Ball was a nightmare; she said he has two left feet."

Hermione nodded. "He's no worse or better at dancing than Harry." Parvati shuddered. "My feelings exactly." Hermione noticed Harry, Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus walk into the Great Hall, and she stood up. The other two girls turned around, and cracked identical grins.

"Go ahead, Hermione."

She thanked them, and walked over to them. They seemed to be unsure of themselves, but Hermione didn't blame them. After all, she had given them their first encounter with a silent incantation.

She brushed past them without a word, but she made sure she deliberately brushed shoulders with Ron.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus moved on, but Harry and Ron stared after her with their jaws hanging open. Hermione smiled to herself as she walked to her private room.

-

Now, if there's one good reason to be Head Girl, it's the private apartment within the castle. The interior is decorated to your specifications, and in this case, Hermione's walls were filled with books.

The portrait that covered the entrance did not hold a frivolous woman or an egomaniac, as Hermione had exclusively requested, but held the portrait of Circe. This was very advantageous, for the mere canvas and frame could not contain her magic. She bade her time weaving, but if someone tried to break in, his or her memory would be wiped of knowledge of Hermione's living space. Sometimes, when the visitor would unwisely rile Circe's temper, Hermione would find a pig squealing at her door. Hermione had actually grown fond of talking with the offensive witch, and regretted knowing she would have to leave in seven-and-a-half months.

There were four rooms, if you didn't count the closet. The entryway with the coat hanger by the door blended into the sitting room, with scarlet and gold stripes running down the walls. But there wasn't much room for paint with the seven floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the room. The side of the room opposite the door was a conjured window, and gave a clear picture of the Whomping Willow and Hagrid's hut. It provided good light, and when the sun would set, Hermione simply lit the twenty candle fixtures secured onto the walls. At any time of day, the light was perfect for reading small, faded print. The furniture consisted of a coffee table, couch, made of chocolate brown leather, long enough to seat five seventh years and seven first years, two overstuffed chairs made of the same material as the couch, and Hermione's favorite chair. This chair was old, worn, and the bottom sagged, but Hermione could not imagine a chair more comfortable and inviting. It was sage green with bronze trim and the feet were shaped to resemble dragon-claws carved from black walnut wood. There was only one personal item in the room: a photograph of Ron and Harry practicing Quidditch with Hermione pulling at her hair on the ground.

The door on the right was the closet where Hermione kept her school supplies handy.

The door on the left revealed her bedroom. Her bedroom was perhaps the strangest and yet most fascinating room in all of Hogwarts. The paint was enchanted, if you even dared to call it paint. It showed the view of the sky from the Astronomy towers at all times, without the noise unless you chose to remove the Silencing Charm and let the sound of crickets and katydids fill the room at night. If Hermione chose to stay in her room during a Quidditch Match, she would still be able to determine (slightly) what was going on. A canopy bed with black draperies and light-gray sheets stood proudly in the middle of the room on the same dragon-claws as her custom-made chair. Hermione was surprised that Dumbledore had allowed it to be queen-sized, but she supposed that it wasn't unusual to have a Head Girl Bed Hog. A wardrobe stood in the corner and the top was level with Hermione's eyes. On the wall by the door, a large mirror hung. It was six feet wide, seven feet tall, and framed in fourteen karat gold crafted to show the story of Merlin. In front of this mirror stood a table, precisely as long as the looking glass itself. Made of pine and covered in deep blue velvet with golden stars that showed the night sky at all times, it was where Hermione kept anything of value that she liked to look at. Various photographs (some moving, some not) sat in thin silver frames. Photographs of her blood family stood on the left with her jewelry. Photographs of her friends and the people she admired were on the right. Among these rested her candy, the Chocolate Frog cards she kept for herself (there were about seven of these), her wand, and the fingerprint lock diary Tonks had given her for her birthday. A pot of scarlet ink and her favorite Merlin quills set in the center on top a fresh pile of parchment. A mahogany desk occupied the other corner. The wooden floor was covered with an immense woolen rug dyed black, blue, and silver.

And in the corner of this small but comfortable room, a door connected to her bathroom. The walls were a soft but bright yellow, and all of the fixtures were sparkling white porcelain. The sink was delicately carved into a floral motif, mostly lilies, roses, baby's breath, and ferns. The legs of the bathtub had been removed, and the body was sunk into the floor. It wasn't huge, like the prefect's was, because if Hermione took a bath, it was because she felt like relaxing. But it did have three taps: one for water (a simple wand tap made it the temperature she desired), one for honey-suckle scented bubbles, and one for the shampoo and/or conditioner with which she filled it. The toilet was enclosed in a closet-like room with deep purple paint and silver stars. The shower was a stall with a smooth glass enclosure. The glass wasn't at all clear; it produced fog on the walls when it was in use. Her cosmetics were stored behind a mirror along with her headache powders and her feminine products. Again, this was magically sealed with a fingerprint lock and use of the password. Those headache powders were too expensive to have people filch them whenever they felt like it…

Hermione flashed a small smile at Circe, who looked worried that her favorite witch seemed tired. If there was something else Circe was good at, she seemed to be able to smell the amount of magic people had used recently. "Don't over-exert yourself," she called after Hermione while she closed. Hermione kicked off her shoes and hung her cloak on the hanger. She walked past the inviting chair and stack of books beside it, past the relaxing bed, and into the bathroom. She filled the tub with water as hot as she could comfortably stand, reached for the alarm clock perched on the floor and set it to ring at six-fifteen. 'That should give me enough time to dry off and get ready,' she thought miserably. And so she shed her clothes and let her aching body soak in the water.

-

Professor Snape was at his desk grading essays when Hermione knocked. He allowed himself a grin as he noticed the numbers on his clock switch to precisely seven o'clock. She was not a second early or late. How typical of students with detention.

He had regained control of his facial muscles when he grumbled, "Enter." The door creaked open, and she slowly walked inside and closed her only means of escape. She kept to the shadows in the back of the room.

"Miss Granger," he sighed, "if we are to share two months of detention together, I suggest you overcome your blatant fear of me, however deserved. I have a proposition for you, and I will not force you to accept it. But I suggest you seriously consider the consequences, and the alternative."

Hermione was interested, but determined not to let it show. She stepped out from next to the jars of pickled rats and sat down halfway from the front of the classroom.

Snape sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"Miss Granger. Grow up, I beg of you. This is not the time to harbor childhood fears. What I'm asking will take great cooperation and immense trust." Her back relaxed perhaps one third of a degree. "Besides, I'm really not in the mood to speak loudly after class is over. I'd much rather save my voice."

Hermione laughed within her mind. He never really spoke higher than a whisper, except to shriek at Harry. But she wasn't moving.

"If you're so eager to save your voice, why don't you leave your desk and sit here instead?" she asked, surprised at the contempt her tone harbored. And to her further surprise, he simply stood up and glided to the seat beside her. And that was the first time he ever compromised with someone in front of their face.

"I'll ignore the fact that you presume you have some authority in the classroom, because if you agree to my proposition, we will have to compromise more than I would openly admit to."

Hermione was growing more and more interested in this proposition. 'If only he would spit it out.'

"Miss Granger, what I'm about to propose to you could be used both for and against Voldemort. So it is important that you do not openly discuss this project." Did he want her to do an extra credit project on the Unforgivables? "As much as I despise the thought, Professor Dumbledore told me that you are allowed to inform your… friends of what we could be working on."

He took a breath, and was obviously going to continue, so Hermione interrupted him. "Professor Snape? Could you just tell me your 'proposition' so I could reject it or not and stop wasting our time?"

Was that a smile? No. It was just her imagination.

He paused, as if uncertain, and said, "My thoughts precisely, Miss Granger. Two months is incredibly precious time to both a student and teacher, and instead of your usual extra credit essay, I believe the time could be put to some use instead of more papers for me to grade and you to write." She nodded. "So I'm proposing that we work together on an advanced Potion that would greatly affect the battle against Voldemort." He could not have had more rapt attention. "What I am offering is that we work together on an Animagus Potion."

Hermione paused. It would be interesting, and he said it could help with the war… and she might become an Animagus out of the deal. But certainly it would take more than two months? She voiced her question.

"Yes, Miss Granger. It would take more than two months. But twice as much ground could be covered with two of us working on it. I will continue with the Potion after your detention is over, but I would greatly appreciate your help. But it is your choice. I can not force you to put yourself in danger, nor do I wish to. You must make up your own mind."

"Professor, I have only one question."

"And that would be…?"

"You wouldn't take house points off, would you?"

"No, Miss Granger. I do not believe it would be necessary. You are not as incompetent as Longbottom over a cauldron."

"Professor Snape, I accept. When do we begin?"

"I think two weeks of research might be enough to start with. Professor McGonagall has agreed to let us question her."

"Just tell me what I need to ask."

"We will determine those questions together. I refuse to work with someone who wants me to spoon-feed them a procedure."

She blushed. "I'm sorry."

"Time to stop being sorry and start being mature, Miss Granger. You will be leaving Hogwarts soon, and you'll find the rest of the world does not rely on extra credit projects."

And until nine-thirty, they discussed the arrangements. They decided that she would have to have two months total detention, but it would be needed to be spaced out. They had weekends and Wednesdays off, and would meet from seven o'clock to nine thirty on the other days. Quidditch games were considered an occasion for a break, Out-of-the-ordinary engagements needed to be confirmed. Except for when Snape would be called to Voldemort. They agreed that if he wasn't in the classroom when she came by for "detention", she should wait fifteen minutes, and then leave a note that she had arrived and waited. Then she would be allowed the rest of the day basically Snape-less.

As the second hand made it officially nine-thirty, she stood up. "Good-night, Professor."

He nodded. "Good-night, Miss Granger."

And she brushed past him into the hall, grateful for two things: she had detention that would produce something useful, and Professor Snape had actually understood her busy schedule.

-

Ron and Harry were waiting around the corner from her dormitory. They didn't trust Circe, and Hermione didn't blame them. After all, being transfigured into a toilet seat and bronze weasel weren't very flattering first impressions.

"So, how was it?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, how was the stupid git?" Ron added.

Hermione scowled. "Ron, Snape is on our side. He's not out to kill Harry anymore."

"Whatever. He's still a Slytherin."

She sighed. This was patriotism at its worst. But she knew better than to argue with sixteen years of habit. "It wasn't too bad. He wants me to help him with something. I'll tell you what it is after a little while. I want to have a little bit of progress before I let you in. It's supposed to be secret, but Dumbledore said I could tell you two."

They nodded. For once, it seemed, Ron decided not to protest.

There was an awkward moment where the all scuffed their feet on the carpet. "Harry?" piped up Ron suddenly. "Could you leave us alone for a minute?"

"Sure."

"Hermione?"

"What is it now, Ron?"

"I just wanted to know if we're okay. You seem… tense."

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to smile. "I'm just tired, Ron. We're okay, really. I just need a little space right now."

"Okay." He stooped to peck her on the cheek, and then left. Hermione went inside and prepared for bed. After today, she was long past ready for sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Two:

Back in the Saddle Again

"So?" asked Harry through a mouthful of eggs. "What was it you were planning on telling us later?"

Hermione chewed on her jelly-laden biscuit and tried to use the time to create an answer with which they'd be satisfied. As hopeless as that idea sounded, it was a valiant effort.

She swallowed, and time was up. "I'll tell you tomorrow, and in my room. This has to be private."

Harry nodded and resumed his chewing, while Ron frowned at his goblet.

"What'd it do this time, Ron?" Hermione teased. "Did the orange juice threaten to reveal your secret of the art of Divination?"

He laughed half-heartedly. Hermione leaned over and pecked him on the cheek in an attempt to make him look at her. It failed, but she had managed to make his ears turn pink.

"Ron, what is it?"

Finally, she was getting results. He took her hand and mumbled, "Nothing, Hermione. And that's just the problem. You don't really seem to care that you're stuck with the greasy git for two months, and I don't really feel like you and I are going anywhere."

Hermione took her free hand and brushed it along the side of his head. "It's because you won't let it, dear. Loosen up, will you? I want us to go somewhere."

He nodded "I'm sorry."

She laughed. He grinned in response. "I love it when you laugh."

"And I love it when you smile. You should do it more often."

"I could say the same for you," he retorted happily.

Harry joined in. "And I promise to make an A in Potions this year if you'll both do it more frequently."

"That's a pie-crust promise Harry; easily made, easily broken," Ginny quoted from beside him.

"Well, what would you suggest?"

Ginny blushed, and Harry knew what she was thinking. "Ginny, would you like to accompany me on the next trip to Hogsmeade?"

"Only if my protector agrees." She turned to Ron, and he nodded.

"It's a date!" promised Ginny. Hermione felt happy for them. Ginny had been pining for Harry as long as she had known the girl, and Hermione noticed that Harry had seemed to finally be warming up to her.

"I wonder what Professor Lupin has planned for this morning," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Harry and Hermione shrugged. "I dunno," replied The-Boy-Who-Flunked-Potions. "He hasn't really seemed to be concentrating on our lessons so far. There hasn't been a theme, if you know what I'm saying."

"I agree. There hasn't been a pattern, and he hasn't even assigned us a textbook yet." Hermione had been the first in their year to point out the lack of summer reading.

"Maybe your wish will come true 'Mione, and he'll finally give us large, heavy books to memorize overnight only to use half of it in class." Hermione punched Ron lightly for his teasing, but couldn't resist a small smile.

"Well, I'm off. You two lovebirds can join me if you want." Harry stood up and grinned lop-sidedly.

"Talk about the pot calling the ket-" Hermione started to joke, but Ron pulled her up by the elbow and the Aspiring Marauders left the Great Hall, heads together and plotting that night's escapade.

-

Everyone sat and whispered excitedly as Professor Lupin walked from his office to behind his desk. He tapped his wand on the blackboard, sending a rainbow of sparks around the class. The students immediately fell silent, but not the tense silence that filled the dungeons. It was a silence found only in interesting classes full of people eager to learn.

"I know that some of you have been wondering why you weren't assigned a textbook at the beginning of the year." His eyes twinkled as they rested on Hermione for a moment, and she let hers twinkle right back. "And that was because I was trying to convince the Ministry to allow me to give the seventh years a special class.

"It took this long not because of our new Minister, Arthur Weasley, but because of the faculty here at Hogwarts. Finally they've given in, and I'm allowed to start with the actual classes."

Many people were stirring in their seats. Lupin smiled and continued. "What I've been planning is, in a sense, another history class."

Everyone but Hermione groaned loudly. Lupin raised his hands in self-defense, and the sounds of woe subsided. "But I assure you that I won't be half as boring as Professor Binns. The kind of history I was planning on teaching was Dark Arts history. More specifically, however, the histories of Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort." Only three people in the room refrained from twitching.

"Now, I am sorry for the delay, but when you visit Hogsmeade this Saturday, I ask you to purchase The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts by Ululia Morose and The Twentieth Century's Greatest Fears by Ordane Killjoy. We'll start going over the texts next week."

Lupin murmured sat down and pulled out some papers from a drawer.

He cleared his throat and the two whispers belonging to Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown instantly died out. "Before next week, I want to ask each of you something: What is the difference between Lord Voldemort and Adolf Hitler?"

Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. He couldn't be serious, could he? Lord Voldemort practically was Adolf Hitler. Didn't everybody realize that?

But the murmurs of confusion brought her back to reality with a thud. As much as some wizards had participated in World War II, the Nazis' leader had not been Hitler or Mussolini. Rolf Grindelwald and Mia Lebanacci had led them. Only the Muggle-borns, perhaps a few half bloods, and Muggle-Studies students would know what he was talking about.

Lupin smiled gently and raised a hand to still the whisperings. "Perhaps I should explain who Hitler was. From 1933 to 1945, Adolf Hitler was Chancellor of Muggle Germany. He founded the Nazi party, and tried to take over Europe. He told people that blue-eyed, blonde-haired Germans were superior, though he himself had black hair and dark eyes. He caused the deaths of over six million Jews though his own grandfather was Jewish, Romas (or gypsies), homosexuals, retarded and other persons he deemed unfit to live. If you're interested to go in depth on this bulk of history, see me later and I will consider suggesting resources and a possible essay for extra credit. And Miss Granger," he added with a sly grin, "I will not permit you to be working on three projects for my class, so don't bother asking.

"But back to the subject. Can anyone start naming similarities?"

Three hands shot into the air. Hermione was surprised to find that besides herself and Harry, Lavender Brown had also risen her hand. Professor Lupin didn't turn a hair.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"They both persecuted a party they shared a history with," she stated clearly.

The words appeared on the board behind him in a shorthand version.

"Harry, do you have something to add?"

"Their looks and was contradictory to the beliefs they supported," Harry mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but the words appeared under Lavender's anyway.

"And Hermione?" Lupin requested with a nod of his head.

"They were both geniuses."

Several chairs scraped against the floor as people turned around to stare at her.

Nevertheless, the words appeared on the board.

"I know what you are talking about, Hermione, but perhaps you could explain it better than I? I'm feeling a little tired." He gestured up at his desk, and Hermione, heart pounding inside her chest, stepped up to the podium where Lupin usually stood.

She looked around the classroom and realized what a strategic view this was. It put everyone but the farthest corner in clear view so notes could not pass across the aisle without her seeing. Every student's face was visible as well as the top of his or her desk. Hermione cleared her throat and began, picking up speed as she grew more comfortable with her words.

"Hitler's speeches held good ideas for a decaying country, though I think his mistake was both violence and egomania for Germany. He told the citizens to help the economy by purchasing German products and supplied jobs through a police force, however warped their minds were by poverty. His organization was supreme and he installed a sense of detail, curiosity, and obstinacy that helped get the people back on their feet, but seemed to have a power of its own. Eventually it gripped the people, and after the invasion of Rhineland and the Evian Conference, Hitler realized that people weren't trying to stop him. Then he invaded Poland, and war waged for the next seven years.

"Tom Riddle was the top student of each of his classes, Slytherin Prefect, and Head Boy. He graduated as Valedictorian and accepted a job at our own Ministry of Magic in the Defense Department. We all know he went on to found organizations - his more exclusive one called 'Death Eaters'. The first public attacks by these groups of people were eleven years before his downfall - in 1970. The victims were parents of Muggle-born students at Hogwarts. Massacres, murders, attacks, and battles raged across Europe with Dark Creatures on both and neither sides. He took steps through hatred to prevent his death and met an even worse fate through a mother's love. I don't think it necessary for me to explain it any further."

She stepped down from the podium and faintly heard Remus say, "Twenty points to Gryffindor. Couldn't have put it better myself."

Her seat in the back of the classroom never felt so welcome. Nevertheless, as Hermione took notes, she could sometimes catch either Harry or Ron staring at her.

-

It was Thursday, so Hermione trudged down to the dungeons, arriving promptly at seven o'clock. She left with a hug from Ron, and Harry had promised to smuggle as much Butterbeer as he could from Hogsmeade to help her recover from her session with the "Living Dementor."

Her bag contained plenty of quills, ink, and index cards (her favorite research tool). Professor Snape nodded at the desk in front that sagged under the weight of the books. She noted with some hint of indignancy that he was grading second year essays as he assigned her weeks worth of reading. Secretly, she was thrilled to have it all to herself.

After sitting down, she took out a large stack of note cards and her sharpest quill and began writing furiously. She paused only to turn a page, or re-dip the quill into her inkpot. Each book was larger and more precise than the last, and they were all on Transfiguration.

Hermione was on her third book (Shape-Shifters: Were They Animaji?) when Professor Snape stood up from his desk. She looked up from the words, but her hands organized the cards while her eyes focused on his.

He glared at her hands, almost daring them to keep moving, and they obediently stopped.

"What I was planning on saying to you was perhaps you could use tomorrow to set a time for an interview with Professor McGonagall. Which also brings up another point, Miss Granger. As per Ministry laws, you must apply for a permit from the Ministry of Magic to contribute to the experiment. We have… (He looked at the watch on his wrist) thirty minutes to compose a letter together, if you would like, and we could send it by nine-thirty tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"'Yes, sir,' what?" he snapped. He hated uncertainty; that was what made Longbottom the bane of his pedagogical existence. The boy's lack of qualification in Potions was infuriating.

"Yes, sir, I think that sending our letter tonight would be ideal."

"Good, because we would have written it tonight whether you would like it or not." Hermione almost laughed. Her gruff and hostile professor sounded like her mother.

Hermione closed the books that were open on her desk, stacked them neatly next to her notes, and stood up from her desk. "Should I go over there, or do you want to come over here?" 'Wonderfully phrased, Hermione,' she scolded herself.

But Professor Snape didn't seem to mind. Instead, he gestured to the door that haunted every Gryffindors' nightmares: the door to his office.

Hermione had heard nightmares about seeing the preserved hearts of unfortunate students with labels on the jars something like, "Sixth year: poor finals," and, "Fifth year: wouldn't cease verbal actions." A quick glance at the walls confirmed her disbelief in these tales of horror. Animal parts stored in formaldehyde and dried plants hanging from the ceiling were the only items that might make an already quivering student even more nervous. A few bookcases were scattered around the room; all of them were a dark wood and very plain. The chairs looked horrid to sit in, and sitting confirmed her suspicions. It was not the most comfortable room in Hogwarts, but she decided that it suited its purpose, and that was all that really mattered.

Professor Snape pulled out a notepad from his desk and a quill, handed them to her, and plainly stated: "Write this down." Hermione nodded, got as comfortable as she could hope to be, and switched her brain onto instinct mode.

"Dear Ministry of Magic, Department of Science Experimentation:

"Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, and Hermione Granger, Head Girl, request permission to create a potion that would allow one to become an Animagus. We will be performing these experiments on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and funds taken from the school's budget, not the government's.

"The aforementioned will conduct an interview with Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. The Ministry is guaranteed rights to access the gathered information and collected data, and if the solution is found, it will report it immediately.

"We await your return owl."

Hermione added the final period, looked up, and blinked. "Is that it?"

"Unless there is something you think is important enough to add." His voice was as hard as nails and as cold as ice. It seemed like he was daring her to challenge him.

She shrugged. "I think we should sign it."

He lifted an eyebrow, and then nodded. "It's not standard procedure, but it's not against policy. I will sign it when I rewrite it this afternoon -"

"Professor? Would you mind if I wrote it up? I… er…" She looked over his shoulder at the label reading, "Dog Liver," in a very illegible scrawl. He nodded in understanding, then left the office and went back to his desk in the classroom outside. She gave a weary sigh and joined him.

Hermione pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and a new bottle of ink and began transforming her rough draft into a formal letter. Her handwriting was neat and tidy, but thin and purposeful. She had to remind herself several times to keep her handwriting the same size and not shrink it down to its normal size. After she signed her name, she crossed the classroom to Professor Snape's desk and placed it beside his hand to await his signature. He simply lifted his hand from marking through an entire paragraph, scratched his name hastily across the bottom, and went back to his cruel grading.

Hermione went back to her bag, pulled out a candle, match, and un-engraved stamp and proceeded to seal the letter. She turned to leave for the Owlery, but Professor Snape halted her by saying, "Wait."

Hermione turned around to explain that it would save time for her to go and deliver the owl, but the solution flew in with a flurry of feathers. "He knows when he's wanted," Professor Snape murmured. He was a purely black eagle, not a single spot of white or color anywhere. His cold gaze was as piercing as his master's was, and his back was just as rigid. His eyes fastened on Hermione with a bitter judgment, and Hermione was determined not to blink. It was exactly like staring down a Hippogriff. Professor Snape raised a hand and stroked its head. Its eyes rolled back in its head in a sort of intoxicated pleasure, but Hermione could only think of how the dark feathers made her Professor's skin seem even paler.

"He respects you," whispered Snape, and Hermione looked up, startled. "Which is more than I can say for most people. Consider yourself fortunate."

The word Fortunate rang inside her mind with a question. "Why am I fortunate?"

"I haven't milked him within the last month. If he decided to kill you right now, it would merely require a prick of your skin with his talons to succeed."

Hermione's eyes grew wide with shock, and she managed to gasp, "Why haven't you milked him, then?"

"The longer he stays un-milked, the more potent the poison becomes. After some time, it becomes a very strong ingredient in Potions. It is one of the more crucial ingredients in Veritaserum, as a matter of fact." He lifted his hand from its head and held it out. She slowly moved towards his desk, keeping both of her eyes on the vicious bird.

Hermione placed the letter in his open palm, then paused, unconsciously keeping her fingers on the envelope. Professor Snape made a small noise with his throat and tugged lightly on the letter. She released it and blushed. "Sorry." She took a deep breath and said, "What breed is it?"

Professor Snape talked as he tied the letter to its leg. Its unnerving eyes kept fixed upon Hermione. "It's a cross breed. Its mother is part Augurey, part owl. Its father is part eagle, part Occamy. Very rare, and very expensive."

Hermione barely refrained from snorting at this last remark. 'How like a Slytherin to think that price is an adjective.'

Her watch beeped; it was nine-thirty. Slowly, she turned around and walked back to the desk where her things were. "Leave the books there," Snape called after her as Hermione slung the bag over her shoulder.

"Good night Professor," she mumbled as she closed the door. "Good night...?"

"Surreptitious."

'What an odd name,' she thought. "Good night Surreptitious." The door clicked shut.

"You wished him good night?" gasped a voice behind her.

Hermione jumped at least a foot and spun around to face her boyfriend. "Shit! Ron, you could have given me a heart attack!"

He had the grace to blush. "Sorry. I just thought you'd like me to be here when you got out of detention." He laughed, and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," laughed Ron, his cheeks glowing and his shoulders shaking. "I just never thought I would be the one waiting for you to get out of detention."

Hermione smiled in appreciation, and the irony did seem to strike a chord within her. "I guess that is funny."

Her arm looped through his and began to lead them back to Gryffindor Tower. Her head rested on Ron's shoulder, and she smiled when he offered to carry her books for her. She accepted gratefully and grinned when he made a small grunting noise as he slung the bag over his other shoulder. The scent on his robes smelled of homemade biscuits, peppermint, and the tiniest bit of straw, making her noise tingle pleasantly. She sighed.

"You okay?" Ron asked, clearly worried.

"Everything's settled. My life's relaxing for once." Ron snorted. "What's so funny?" demanded Hermione.

"You are! Listen to you! You're Head Girl, top of all your classes, starting two months of detention with the Head of Slytherin House, you're a close friend of Harry Potter, and you have me for a boyfriend! You call your life relaxing!"

That thought dwindled in her mind for a moment. Then she too began to laugh. Ron grinned and squeezed her tight. Hermione beamed even brighter.

Harry was waiting for them outside Circe's portrait, engaged in a passionate conversation with her about his Transfiguration homework. Hermione winked at Circe, and the witch raised her willow and phoenix feather wand to transform her student quickly into a pig. He squealed loudly, even louder when he saw Hermione and Ron laughing. Circe mercifully changed him back.

He blushed, and Hermione gave the new password: "I solemnly swear I am not doing homework." Ron snorted, and Harry beamed. Ron sprawled out over the couch, Harry nestled down in a chair, and Hermione perched in her chair. A yawn overcame Harry, and Hermione smiled.

"What were you two doing last night?" she teased. "Don't tell me you've been sneaking out again."

Harry blushed. "Ron wasn't involved."

"Oh, really? Who was it, then? I've never known you to go off on your own."

"It was Ginny."

Ron's mouth fell open. Hermione merely smirked and asked, "Did you go to the Astronomy Tower or that empty classroom in the Charms Hallway?"

It had never occurred to Hermione how much her boyfriend could look like a fish. Harry, on the other, hand mumbled something that resembled "Quidditch pitch."

That did it: Ron Weasley had quite formally passed out.


	3. Chapter Three

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Three:

Stardust

Friday morning arrived, and it arrived with a bang. Hermione woke up with a pounding headache and groaned softly. '_Just what I need_,' she thought bitterly to herself. '_I get to roam Hogwarts with a migraine.' _Hermione threw off the covers and touched her feet to the heated floor. Ten minutes, a hot shower, and a headache powder later, Hermione was pulling on her most comfortable blue jeans and a red silk blouse. After adding socks, shoes, and a cloak, she was grabbing her backpack and heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Unfortunately, she encountered Peeves on the way. "Herm-own-ninny is going to be late! Going to be late! Late for breakfast!" he cackled.

"Shut-up Peeves," Hermione growled underneath her breath. She continued to storm down the hall, but Peeves had picked his target.

"Herm-own-ninny can't control me!"

"The Bloody Baron can," she snapped and turned around, placing her hands on her hips and glaring dangerously. Peeves paused, but only for a moment.

"You won't get him," smirked the Poltergeist.

"_Harangus_!" Hermione shouted with her wand pointed at Peeves's mouth. A smoky needle appeared in the air and stitched a stronghold over his lips. Making the most horrible screams he could, he flew through the walls, and Hermione didn't see him for another month.

Dragging herself the rest of the way to the Great Hall took a noble effort, and managing to land on a seat was in itself a miracle.

"You look like shit."

Hermione looked up with a fire in her eyes that made Ron immediately apologize. Hermione returned to her throbbing black world.

"I think you look nice," offered Harry cautiously.

"No, I don't," Hermione mumbled from within her dark world of self-pity.

"I think you do. That blouse agrees with you."

Hermione glanced down to make sure she really _was_ wearing a blouse, it wasn't trying to hold a conversation with her, and also to remember what color it might be. "Thanks, Harry." Mistaking her low, drawling tones for sarcasm, he began to ask forgiveness. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to sound as if I didn't appreciate it. I'm just tired, and my headache isn't helping any." Hermione bit into a slice of toast spread with marmalade and washed it down with a sip of coffee.

Ron scowled at Harry, but Harry merely shrugged and mouthed, "Your loss."

Hermione stood up shakily and began to stumble outside for Herbology. Harry and Ron scrambled up and hurried after her. "Hermione!" Ron shouted and grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be walking around alone in the state you're in!"

"What do you plan to do when I go to Arithmancy, and you go to Divination?"

"I… well…"

"I'll be all right, Ron."

"Okay. But let me hold you while we go to Herbology?"

"Of course." He wrapped his arms around her and, feeling incredibly light-headed, they slowly walked to Greenhouse IV.

There were only three open spaces left: one by Neville in the front and the other two in the back. "Hermione, I need to talk to Harry. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Hermione adjusted her books and joined Neville.

"Are you okay?" Neville whispered as Professor Sprout demonstrated the proper way to sing to a baby Gigglelikus. Hermione nodded while she pulled on her dragon-hide gloves.

-

1500 Plants You Should Be Careful of when Handling tells us, "Gigglelikus is a very rare and tender plant. Much like the Mandrake in that the roots resemble a human, the Gigglelikus is much gentler. It does not scream in its early stages, but merely coos and emits the occasional hiccup. In its adolescent years, it giggles at a rapid speed for several months, and once it has matured, chuckles richly when pulled from the soil. Its known properties are remedies for depression, and some of the most successful disguises. One who eats a steamed Gigglelikus leaf will develop the characteristics they despise most. Gigglelikus roots cause very poor memory and a shortened attention span. Nevertheless, the consumer's fashion taste will noticeably improve. This may be the reason more expensive stores, especially in Paris, feed their customers a small portion of Gigglelikus root before they make a purchase."

-

Professor Vector rapped the long ruler covered in Runes against her desk, and the chattering students fell silent. Hermione, who always sat in the front of the classroom, perched on the edge of her seat. Blaise Zabini sat next to her, slumped back in her seat and twirling a Muggle pen idly between her fingers. She lowered the tip to the paper and began sketching a caricature. Hermione watched from the corner of her eye, and as soon as the ink outlined the sharp profile, Hermione had to fight to suppress her giggles. Blaise grinned to herself and kept drawing.

"Miss Granger? Is there something you wish to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, Professor Vector. I'm sorry."

"Pay attention to the numbers, Miss Granger. That's all there is to this." Professor Vector glanced at Blaise, and her brow furrowed. "This is Arithmancy, not Art Class Miss Zabini. As amusing as your Head of House can be when sketched, I do not recall him being interested in Arithmancy as a boy, and he is therefore unrelated to this class. Please save your other skills for later."

Blaise placed the parchment carefully into her bag, but the pen stayed between her fingers.

"Anyway, seeing as how it's your seventh year, I was planning on continuing something that has worked for me so far, and I expect it to _keep_ working." She shot a glare at some of her least favorite students. "For the past few years, my seventh year classes have followed a pattern. One week I would teach something new, more complex and maybe even allow the students to experiment and try to discover something I haven't taught them. The next week, we would review whatever my students wanted. In that review, you would apply the lessons to yourself. I know that I did not allow you to do this earlier, and it was because I believed you wouldn't be mature enough to realize that these numbers don't dictate your future. They are merely guides along the road. Numbers _can not_ control your life."

"Wonderful speech," mumbled Blaise underneath her breath.

Professor Vector pretended not to hear. "Today, you'll be trying to match your character numbers to a place you might like to live, favorite food, etc. I'm sure all of you know your character number by now."

Hermione pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and scrawled her character number, three, at the top. Various cities popped into her mind. She wrote them down into tidy rows and after she had cleared all her ideas, began to do the math.

Ten minutes later, her list had drastically shortened to New York, Glasgow, and Poitiers, a charming town she had visited in France. She tucked the list into her Arithmancy folder and continued with breakfast foods.

-

Hogwarts had scheduled students to have a trip to Hogsmeade that Friday. Hermione had cleared it with Snape on Thursday's detention, and they agreed it would be all right for Hermione not to attend the first half-hour.

As Head Girl, Hermione was partly in charge of supervision, especially at the Three Broomsticks. Several students usually had more than their proper share of Butterbeer and ended up humiliating themselves table dancing before the evening was over. However, Hermione had paired up with Justin Finch-Fletchey (Head Boy), and they agreed he would take the first half, and she would supervise the pub on the second.

The first stop was Honeydukes. Harry had begun to run low on Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and Ice Mice. Ron was determined to buy enough Drooble's Best Blowing Gum to make Hogwarts float in mid-air. Hermione merely wanted a few Sugar Quills to tide her over during History of Magic.

Afterwards, Harry and Ron departed for Zonko's (Fred and George had written asking them to find out what any new products were), but Hermione left for the used bookshop. Grabbing a few books, she nestled down for about forty-five minutes and read the first chapter of each. The hickory clock on the wall chimed five o'clock, and Hermione purchased The Green Mile, The Golden Compass, and Morgana: 1001 Questions You Never Thought to Ask.

"You awright, 'Mione?" asked Henry, the regular bookkeeper there.

"Yeah, why?" Hermione set the coins on the counter.

"You usually buy at least five on a weekend. Somethin' wrong?"

Hermione gave a weak smile. "No, Henry. Nothing's wrong. I've got a headache, that's all."

"Nasty blighter, eh?"

Hermione shrugged. "I managed to take care of most of it when I woke up. Those powders you told me about really work."

Henry grinned. "They shu' do. Why else would I recommend 'em to me fav'rite bookworm?" He winked and handed her the books.

"Thanks, Henry. I'll see you later, shall I?"

"You do dat, 'Mione." He called after her as the door closed, "I 'ope ya feel bettah soon!"

Harry and Ron were waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. It seemed relatively peaceful outside (the building wasn't on fire at least), so Hermione managed to walk inside without running in the opposite direction, screaming.

The inside wasn't too out of control. A Hufflepuff doesn't make much influence on rowdy students, but it wasn't a miniature version of Barnum & Bailey's Circus either. "All right, Justin. Your turn," she sighed, and he gratefully scampered outside.

Madam Rosmerta was the first person to come up to Hermione. "What'll it be dear?" she asked in a sympathetic tone.

"An Italian Ice, please. Make it raspberry."

"Right away, dear. I'll just be a moment." No sooner had the sparkling blue pumps disappeared than the first student came up to her and dumped their problems on her lap.

"Hermione, Susan Foster is crying because Jake Little broke up with her."

"Hermione, Michael Watson threatened to give me zits if I didn't kiss him."

"Hermione, Pansy Parkinson told me she saw doom in my future if I didn't skin a cat in the Hufflepuff stands during the next Quidditch game."

Eventually, an enormous crowd of girls, some waving ticket numbers in the air, had gathered around Hermione shouting their problems at her. Patience gone and head pounding, she shot a stream of red sparks into the air. "BE QUIET!" she roared. "NOW IF ANY OF YOU HAVE ANYTHING IMPORTANT TO TELL THAT HAS NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO WITH DATING, DIVINATION, OR PERSONAL APPEARANCE, PLEASE WAIT IN A LINE AND TELL ME IN A NORMAL TONE OF VOICE! IF NOT, PLEASE GO AWAY AND USE YOUR BRAINS!" Every single person had returned to the booth or table they had been sitting at earlier. The dull roar that had once pounded in her ears was now a blissful silence. Glancing at the clock, it was revealed to be seven o'clock and the time to return to Hogwarts. She asked Harry politely if he would mind speaking up for her, for her voice was slightly raspy from the earlier moment's screaming.

"ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE! LISTEN UP! IT'S TIME TO GO BACK TO HOGWARTS! IF YOU COULD PLEASE RETURN TO THE CARRIAGES, WE WOULD APPRECIATE IT! PLEASE DO NOT LAG ABOUT, BECAUSE YOU _WILL_ BE LEFT BEHIND!" With a flurry of coats, the students had gone outside.

"Thanks," whispered Hermione.

"No problem, was it Ron?" He nudged his friend in the stomach.

"I suppose not." Hermione shot him a worried look as they left.

Ginny ran up to them. "Harry!"

Harry was climbing into the carriage; one foot was on the step, and both hands were clutching the doorframe. He turned and looked over his shoulder and almost fell off in surprise. "Oh my gosh! Ginny, I'm so sorry! Look, I-"

Ginny smiled and raised a finger to his lips. "I understand perfectly. Just let me know next time. That way I'm not stuck waiting by the train station for half an hour."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh! Do you want to ride with us?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. I promised Ernie Macmillan I'd ride with him. I hope you don't mind…"

"No! No, not at all."

"Thanks." Ginny stood up on her tiptoes and pecked Harry on the cheek.

"Hey, Ginny! Are you coming?" Ernie shouted.

"All right!" She ran in the direction from which the voice had shouted. "Bye Harry!" she called over her shoulder.

His fingers twitched in the air for about ten seconds and slowly his arm lowered. He gazed, thunderstruck, at Ginny's back then shook his head and climbed into the carriage. He was blushing furiously. Hermione grinned ferociously. "Well, I _was_ planning on telling you guys what I've been working on in detention, but seeing as how -"

"Tell us!"

"Oh, come on!"

Hermione raised her hands in surrender. "All right! All right! I've been helping Professor Snape work on…" She glanced around for anything that looked untrustworthy, but they all leaned together anyway. "What we've been working on is an Animagus Potion."

They both leaned back in their seats. "That's it?"

"'That's it?' Do you realize what I'm saying? It's never been done before! Think about it! One sip and a person could skip years of work with the same results! Think about how that could change the world!"

Hermione could see the light bulb materializing over Harry's head, but Ron's expression was still as blank as ever. "Okay, guys, let's put it this way. Rita Skeeter managed to sneak around because she was an Animagus, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. Imagine the entire press being able to do that."

Harry's face took on a humorous expression of immense fear, and Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head.

Hermione smiled. "Anyway, Professor Snape asked me if I'd mind extending the detention half an hour, and I said I wouldn't mind if -"

"Wait just a second. Are you working on this voluntarily?" Ron asked with the tone of voice someone uses when told their invisible Aunt Mathilde was abducted by Eccentrica Gallumbits from the planet Eroticon Six.

One of Hermione's eyebrows arched. "Of course."

"With Snape."

"That's the general plan."

"Voluntarily," Ron repeated.

"I feel like I've been recorded onto a scratched record."

"ARE YOU _CRAZY?_"

Hermione paused. "Actually, there's an excellent possibility that I am."

Ron threw his hands up into the air and let out a scream of frustration.

"My feelings exactly."

Ron rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Harry merely leaned against the side of the carriage and watched them. "What are you looking at?" snapped Ron finally.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just making my own opinions." Ron looked out the window in order to determine how much longer he would have to put up with the other two. "I was thinking about Hermione, and I was trying to look at things from her point of view."

"What did you see?" Hermione asked, truly curious. This was bound to be interesting.

"Well, the first thing I saw was ambition, and that leads to Slytherin. My first reaction was, 'If you're so ambitious, why weren't you placed in Slytherin?' Then I remembered what Dumbledore told me when I asked why _I_ wasn't there myself, and I also remembered what you said about the different houses when we first met you. You _asked_ not to be put in Slytherin, didn't you?"

Hermione seemed to have found a sudden interest in her shoes. "Actually, it did want to put me in Slytherin. I begged for it not to, so it put me in Gryffindor instead. It never even mentioned Ravenclaw, and I've always wondered why. I mean, my scores have always been higher than the Ravenclaws', and learning is supposed to be really important to them."

Ron's jaw was hanging open as if the hinge holding in place had disintegrated. "I thought so," Harry continued. "I figured if you could possibly be in Slytherin, it could also be possible for you to get along with Snape. So that was the first problem I'd found solved. The next one I asked myself was, 'Why would she _want_ to work with Snape?'"

"Did you figure that one out?"

"Yes, I did. I also found the answer for that in your ambition. You'd do _anything_ to make some important discovery, wouldn't you?"

"Well, not _anything_, but yes, I've always wanted to impact the future as much as you have, Harry."

Harry frowned. "You don't want to exchange family for fame, Hermione. I promise you that." He took a deep breath and plunged onward. "Anyway, I decided that it wouldn't matter a whole lot who you worked with, as long as they pulled their weight and didn't absorb all the credit for themselves. Snape's not that kind of person, so it isn't a problem to work with him."

"There's also another reason, Harry. Do you see it?"

Harry paused for a moment. Out of habit, his fingers picked at the Gryffindor seal on his chest. "That's it!" he exclaimed when his subconscious and train of thought collided. "It's out of stubbornness, isn't it? You want to _prove _that it's possible to work with him, don't you?"

Hermione grinned. "Actually, yes. That's all there is."

Ron continued to scowl. "That's the most stupid psychology I've ever heard. Stubbornness would keep me as far away from Snape as I could manage."

"That's because you can't see past the greasy hair into his brain, and past the Slytherin crest into his reason," snapped Hermione. "A psychiatrist could sum up your personality into two words, Ronald Weasley: 'jealous prat.'"

The carriage slowed to a halt outside the castle steps, and Hermione ran outside the carriage and into the castle without waiting for the wheels to stop completely.

Both Harry and Ron were sticking their heads out of the doorway. Harry turned his head to look at Ron, and Ron looked back at Harry. "What?" he asked, the silence finally getting to him.

Harry merely shook his head, shoved his way past Ron, and let his long legs carry him into the castle.

-

The dungeon door slammed open, and Severus Snape glanced upward to see a fuming Hermione growling in his doorway. She marched inside, dropped the three books she had bought at Hogsmeade in the back of the room, and placed her palms on top of a pile of freshly graded essays, managing to smear a "28" in the process.

Snape sneered, and Hermione felt a strong urge to make a few gaps between his teeth. "You told them didn't you?" he asked.

Hermione screamed, and Mrs. Norris, who was three stories above them, paused in alarm. "DO YOU REALIZE HOW -"

"Miss Granger, I don't believe you have even begun to comprehend how impossibly ignorant some people allow themselves to be."

Hermione glared and leaned in to peer at him. "Can I borrow a book from you?"

Snape seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then slowly asked, "What would be the purpose of this book?"

"I need to beat Ronald Weasley senseless."

"Would you prefer Hogwarts: A History, Expanded Volume, or Webster's Complete Dictionary of Every Language?"

Hermione laughed and moved to a seat in the front. "Has the Ministry sent you a reply yet?"

"Yes." He reached into his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. "_Dispachious à Granger." _The paper rose in the air and glided gently towards Hermione. She looked at him quizzically as she took the paper from the air. "It's a French spell," he explained. "One picks up different ways of saying spells when one travels. Moreover, they have different effects. For example, if I had said the English Propellant Spell, the parchment would have hurled itself through the air and have nearly ruined itself in the process. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Hermione scanned the letter. Her brow furrowed, and she tapped the parchment with her finger. "What does it mean when it says, 'Your experimentation will be supervised'?"

Professor Snape sneered and marked through the greater majority of the page he was looking at. "It means that they will enchant a mirror to set up in my classroom while we are working so that those fools may watch us."

"Why not send an actual person? Magic Mirrors are very expensive."

Professor Snape's lips curled into a devilish grin. "Because the last time they tried that, the idiot they sent along temporarily blinded himself when he looked directly at my experiment." His grin spread wider. "I gave him directions to the Owlery instead of the Hospital Wing."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But the Owlery is on the other side of the castle!"

"I know that. I also heard that he stepped on Mrs. Norris and broke his nose on the journey."

Hermione finished the Ministry's reply. She rolled it up and took it back to Professor Snape. "Professor, when did you plan to interview Professsor McGonagall?"

"I might consider yourself up to the task of speaking to your Head of House. In any case, I cannot guarantee my participation in such an interview. It would be best for you to sort out the issue between yourselves and then inform me of the decision."

"Oh, well all right then. I suppose that's settled." Professor Snape nodded in reply. Giving up at any hope of communication, Hermione pulled out her notes and began marking things that might be more important to them later. Her outline looked thus:

_Objective: Create a potion that allows the drinker to become an Animagus._

_Research:_

_15,000,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_Advanced Transfiguration for the Immensely Meticulous_

_Legends of Merlin_

_Transfiguration for Dummies_

_Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Time_

Shape-Shifters: Were They Animagi?

_Interview:_

_Prof. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistres at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry_

_Conducted by Hermione Granger and Prof. Severus Snape_

_Possible Ingredients:_

_Gigglelikus_

_Dragon Scales_

_Quintaped Hair_

_Demiguise Hair_

_Phoenix Feather_

_Kelpie Mane_

Slowly the minutes ticked by with the occasional question posed by Hermione and swept aside by her professor's hand with a wave of impatience. An hour passed, and Hermione began packing to leave. Lifting her bag onto the tabletop, she walked up to Professor Snape's desk. "Professor?" He made no movement to acknowledge if he was listening or not, so she continued. "I was wondering when it would be convenient to interview Professor McGonagall. She told me that weekends and the early part of the Christmas holiday would be all right with her. I could be available in the Christmas holiday if you'd be able to make arrangements as well."

"I can schedule it, but I am unable to make a promise that I will be there, Miss Granger."

"Why not? I mean…" He looked up at her with such ferocity that Hermione mentally slapped herself for her lapse of tact. "I'm sorry."

"My foolhardy decision was not _your_ fault, Miss Granger. However, I do advise you not to ignore the consequences my childish action will have upon you." She merely nodded. "You are free to leave early if you wish."

Hermione swept out of the room like a caged bird released into its native homeland. She collided into Harry around the corner, and papers flew everywhere. "Harry! What are you doing here?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" He began gathering up the scattered parchment and stacking it into a pile. "Were these in any particular order?" He looked from her Transfiguration homework to an extra credit essay for Lupin to yet another page of notes taken in Arithmancy.

She took the papers from his hands and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I was going to sort through them this weekend anyway." Gently, she placed them inside her sack and looped it around her shoulders. "Like I said earlier, what are you doing here?"

"I… well… Ron was being a prat this evening, and I just wanted to remind you that he really does like you, even if he doesn't show it too often. He's barricaded our dorm and demands not to let anyone in until someone beats some sense into your head."

"So that's the reason you came down here! All you want is to sleep in your own bed tonight."

Harry rubbed his neck with a hand awkwardly. "Actually…" He laughed. "No, not really." Hermione's eyes bugged. "I didn't mean that! I just thought you might want a friend to walk with back to your room. These halls get lonely."

"You'd be the one to know, Mister Potter." She nudged him in the stomach and grinned.

He smiled. "So would you, Miss Granger."

"Oh, shut up. I don't sneak out in the halls half as often as you do, you know. I'm not the one with your dad's old Invisibility Cloak to protect me."

"Hey, you know that you can use it anytime you ask." He stopped walking long enough to look here in the eye. "I mean that now. If you ever think anything's wrong, and you need to take care of it, let me know, and I'll lend it to you."

Hermione nodded. "Of course I will. We've been friends too long not to ask." They continued down the hall, but this time in awkward silence.

"Guess what I'm thinking about," Hermione commanded Harry. He shrugged. "I was comparing the number of times Ron and I have been on not-speaking terms, but you and I have still been able to talk."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "All I can think of is when you told Professor McGonagall about my Firebolt and got it confiscated."

"Exactly. Isn't that weird?"

"Actually, I was thinking almost the same thing. I was thinking about when Ron wouldn't talk to me, because he thought I'd cheated my way into the Tournament, but you and I would still go out on the grounds for a stroll."

They rounded the corner in time to watch Circe transfigure a troubled second-year Hufflepuff into a poodle. "You little sniveling -"

"Circe!" Hermione rushed forward and restored the howling puppy to its normal state as a human. She cast a glance at Harry, who was already waving good-bye and turning to leave. 'Thanks,' she mouthed over the little girl's shoulder.

She shepherded the sobbing girl into her living room and sat her down on the couch. Quickly transfiguring a toffee into a mug of hot chocolate with three ice cubes floating in the steaming refreshment, she handed it to the greatly calmed down Hufflepuff. "I suppose you should start off by telling me your name."

Wiping away a tear, she sniffed, "Elizabeth Kelly."

"Okay, Elizabeth. What's the problem?" Hermione transfigured her own toffee into a mocha latte and sipped.

"I… I…" She burst into a fresh bout of tears, and Hermione handed her a box of Kleenex. "Thank you." She blew her nose and tried to continue. "Do you know Owen Cauldwell?"

Hermione racked her brain and produced an image of a tall, muscular, golden blonde fourth-year Hufflepuff that reminded her disturbingly of Cedric Diggory. "I think so."

"Anyway, Owen and I have been going out for weeks, and this Wednesday… well…" She rolled up her left sleeve, and Hermione began to panic. When the Dark Mark didn't appear, Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief until a large green bruise revealed itself on her upper arm.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Hermione stood up and led her into the bathroom. Elizabeth gazed in wonder at the elegance of her bedroom as they passed through. She almost stopped in the middle of the room and refused to move. "Come in here." Elizabeth stepped into the bathroom to be even more enchanted. While she stared at the handcrafted porcelain sink, Hermione whispered, "_Claritio." _A mask of foundation, blush and eyeshadow lifted from her face, then crumpled and fell into the sink like a ball of clay. Hermione gasped in horror. "How long has this been going on? I want the truth."

Elizabeth hung her head in shame. Her neck had ten bruises where Owen had squeezed, and her cheek was almost a solid purple. A small pink scar at the corner of her eye shaped like a small crescent moon seemed to be an odd defiant of crow's feet. "Two weeks."

"Have you told anybody? Does anyone know about this?"

"No. At least I don't think so. No one's mentioned it."

Hermione sighed. "Come on. I'm going to take you to Madam Pomfrey, where you'll stay overnight. Then I'm going to go see Professor Sprout."

"Oh, please no! I don't want to get Owen in trouble!" Hermione's temper flared not at the girl but her passiveness and her dependence on something that did not exist.

"Elizabeth, Owen deserves whatever punishment he gets. No human being worthy of respect will beat someone just for the sake of caring for their victim. Come on. Let's go."

The trip though the halls was quiet but tender. That thirty minutes across the castle created a bond between the two that neither forgot for some time.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head when she saw Elizabeth and sat her down on the nearest bed. "Keep her here overnight, Madam Pomfrey."

"Oh, I think I'll be all right. I can probably go back to my Common Room tonight."

"Detention, Miss Kelly. You'll serve it here in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey." Madam Pomfrey nodded solemnly.

"You're kidding!" Elizabeth laughed.

"I'm reporting it to your Head of House as soon as I leave, and if you mock my decision once more, I will deduct points from your house as well. Do I make myself clear?"

"Transparently," mumbled the young Hufflepuff dejectedly. Madam Pomfrey busied herself with her remedies. Hermione left for the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Professor Sprout appeared at her door in a nightshift and cap, a candle floating by her side. "Oh, Miss Granger! Is there something wrong?"

"No, Professor. However, I need to speak with you in private about Mr. Owen Cauldwell, if you please."

"Oh, come right on in dear." Professor Sprout stepped sideways, and Hermione passed into her chambers.

Professor Sprout's living room was painted a warm brown with hints of gold sponge technique. Hermione noticed the assortment of plants and herbs dangling from the ceiling. Clearly, Professor Sprout's main concern was of the horticultural kind. The furniture was mainly garden chairs and thin foam cushions. A hammock hung in the corner by the fireplace, and Hermione selected this as her seat. Professor Sprout, a cup of herbal tea in hand, took the only comfortable-looking chair in the room. It was upholstered in deep green leather, and when she leaned back, it reclined and a footrest popped into the air. "Now what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Professor Sprout -"

"Would you like some tea? I made a fresh pot this evening."

"No thank you. You see, Owen Cauldwell has been abusing Miss Elizabeth Kelly."

"Oh my! Are you quite sure?"

"She told me herself, Professor. She said this has been happening for two weeks."

"Where is the poor girl?"

"I took her to the Hospital Wing before I came here. She's been given detention with Madam Pomfrey to ensure that she stays there." Professor Sprout nodded. "I'll leave his punishment to you, since both students are in your house." Hermione got up to leave.

"Excellent handling of the situation, Miss Granger. I thank you." Professor Sprout saw her to the door. "Five points to Gryffindor I should think, for your level-headed approach to such a serious situation, and another five for your quick and effective reaction."

"Thank you Professor Sprout. Good night."

"Good night, Miss Granger." The portrait shut quite firmly, and with, Hermione mused to herself, a very definite ring of doom for a certain Owen Cauldwell.

-

In the darkest corner of the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library lies a book entitled The Secrets of Becoming a Veela. It has no business being in the library, and Madam Pince refuses to mention lending it to Professor McGonagall. Although Professor McGonagall has never requested that particular book, a certain Charms Professor has come very close to being permanently banished from the bookshelves for merely picking it up and reading the summary on the back. On the subject of Veela hair in chapter Six, it advises us to avoid the tantalizing locks: "Veela hair is a potent and dangerous item of great magical power. The only thing it the only occurrence when it is considered an option for usage is the core of a wand; even then, it induces a spark of inconsistency and foul temper. Mr. Ollivander of Ollivander's Wands refrains from using them whenever possible and has even canceled a New Year's Trip to New York City when he discovered the woman in charge of the fireworks used a veela-hair wand. Nevertheless, veela hair does have its virtues, a testimony that strength doesn't always lie in numbers. Veela hair laid on a pine log and then lit aflame will cause the wood to slowly burn at a comfortable temperature for days with a single hair. Norwegian witches buy veela hair for as many as three Galleons per strand. Another of the positive qualities of veela hair is the gift of partial human to animal Transfiguration. The bestial result is usually that of a bird, but it always produces an animal with predatory instincts. Another trait of veela hair is, when touched directly to free-flowing blood of a woman, will make that woman a maximum of five times stronger either physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, or magically. It depends on the area of the blood-to-hair contact which kind of strength will grow. This is commonly used as a drug for depressed patients at certain hospitals, thought extremely cautiously. The final somewhat positive trait of veela hair is extreme beauty in the eyes of men when it braided into a woman's hair in at least ten different places. This is very expensive and may be done professionally for no less than 300 Galleons. The American Britney Spears popularized this practice. Nevertheless, veela hair is a dangerous substance, and should only be used with utmost caution.

-

Hermione kicked off her shoes as soon as Circe closed behind her. Groaning, she stumbled into her bedroom._ 'Friday,' _she thought._ 'The weekend officially starts tomorrow._'She caught a glimpse of the clock by her bed.'_Actually, it starts in fifteen minutes_.Hermione collapsed onto her bed, only to hear an indignant feline howl in protest. He burrowed his way out from underneath and instead plopped on top of her stomach and began to purr.

She managed to lift a hand to stroke his head. "Crookshanks? Are all men bastards?"

He merely purred in reply. To satisfy her need for arguing, she considered it an objection to her most recent statement.

"But they're such idiots! Egotistic brats, all of them! Ron's always complaining about how no one pays attention to him, and when they do, he either never really wanted it, or he revels in it like some Beauty Queen tanning on the beach." Crookshanks seemed to agree with her on that point.

"And Draco Malfoy! Ugh, what a prat! He has Ron's ego magnified ten times over and with enough money to get away with it! Moreover, he's always getting us into trouble. He isn't blamed for it of course. He just goes running to Professor Snape."

Crookshanks meowed. "Oh, yes! Him too! That man has enough hot air to blast a balloon to Mars and back, I swear it! It's almost as if he invented pride! I will never again see someone hold such a grudge against a mere boy simply for his genetic structure."

Hermione yawned. "Am I making a fool of myself?"

The cat purred simply and poked its mistress with a frisky paw. Hermione smiled weakly. "Icould stop complaining and got to sleep if only_ someone _would get off me." Crookshanks leapt to the floor with the hurried grace of a sorely beaten Ford Anglia. "Thanks."

Hermione's last conscious thought that night was'_It's a fact… All men… are… bastards.' _Crookshanks quite agreed.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and his fictional universe. However, I am allowing myself to borrow them for the moment. I hope Mme. J.K. Rowling and all of her lawyers forgive me, and I promise to return the material to her intact.

A/N: I wrote the opening of this chapter during Health Class, so forgive me if it seems to drag. I was merely trying to absorb my time into something constructive. I hope all of you understand, as I know you will. Moreover, if you don't, screw you. 

May I state the oddness that a lawyer helped me writer this chapter. Much Kudos to my English teacher's father, if he happens to be reading this.

"Uncle Douglas" is derived from a member of my family, except that he is my third cousin, twice removed. His hair is completely grey. The only reason I associated him with Mr. Bess is I recall "Cousin Doug" sending us a Christmas Card recently.

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Four:

Bye Bye Blackbird

"Pack up all my cares and woe

Feeling low

Here I go

I say 'Bye bye Blackbird."

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

"Please be seated."

A man in formal black robes with thin white pinstripes running vertically to the ground stood up from behind a table, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sighed and replaced the glasses back upon his face. Hermione noticed with sympathy the jet-black hair turning grey at his temples, and was oddly reminded of her Uncle Douglas.

He approached the stand. "Could you please state your name for the record?"

"Hermione Elizabeth Granger, sir."

"And you are in Gryffindor house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes, sir. I'm also Head Girl."

"I didn't ask for a title," he sneered.

"I'm sorry, sir."

He leaned forward and put his forearms on the wood. He smiled at her with sparkling teeth, and Hermione found herself wanting to make a few holes in them. "Miss Granger, do you have a cat?"

"Yes, sir. His name is Crookshanks." She grinned fondly.

"And does he eat mice?"

"Not that I know of. He likes gnomes and birds, sometimes squirrels, but he hasn't brought me a mouse in ages."

"Does that mean he's brought you a mouse before?"

"Yes, but it wasn't Scabbers."

"I didn't ask that, Miss Granger." He glanced at the judge.

"But you were going to."

"You don't know that."

"It was fairly obvious," she snapped. 

The judge rapped on his pedestal. "Miss Granger, It would behoove you if you could please keep the contempt out of your voice."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Please proceed with the prosecution."

"Thank you, your Honor. Now, Miss Granger, was there an incident in your third year where Mr. Ronald Weasley found blood and rat hairs on his sheets?"

"Yes, there was, but Scabbers - "

"Miss Granger, if you'll just answer the questions _I ask you -" Mr. Bess snarled._

"Objection!" Sirius's attorney shouted. "He's not letting the witness tell the 'whole truth,' which she swore to do!"

"Sustained. Mr. Bess, if you would please finish this." The judge glared at the barrister, and the man seemed to wither.

"With pleasure, your Honor. Miss Granger, I have one last question. How long have you been in contact with Mr. Black without reporting it to the Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione blushed, slumped down in her chair, and mumbled a few incomprehensible words.

"Could you please speak up, Miss Granger? The judge would like to hear this." He was clearly mocking her, and that sense of triumph caused him to flash another brilliant smile.

She looked up, and in a tone that contained every possible ounce of poison she could summon from her body, she said, "Almost four years."

The courtroom gasped dramatically, and the judge shook his head to himself. Hermione caught a few whispered words that sounded like, "Damn those courtroom dramas…"

Mr. Bess flashed that nasty grin once more. "The prosecution rests."

Mr. Porgy, the Defense Attorney, stood up and cleared his throat. His hands clung to his coat, and Hermione saw Atticus for a brief cinematic flash. "Miss Granger, you tried to tell the court that you are Head Girl?"

"Yes, sir. I did."

He glanced down briefly at his notes. "I see. You were also a prefect in your fifth and sixth years?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you were always, in the six years you've completed so far, at the top of all your classes?"

"I believe I was the top of my year, sir."

"Oh, yes! Here it is!" He tapped his finger on a paper to illustrate his point. "I apologize." He began to saunter towards the box. "Miss Granger, would you consider yourself to rely only upon fact?"

Hermione paused. "I'd say approximately 99.9% of the time…"

"If you see something, do you believe it?"

"Not without a proper explanation."

"About Scabbers, did you ever find his body?"

"Yes, sir. I was fixing Hagrid some tea, and Scabbers was hiding in the teapot. He was very much alive, sir."

"I expect you were pretty surprised."

"Yes, sir. I screamed, and then I think I may have dropped the teapot."

"What did Mr. Weasley do?"

"He took Scabbers and put him in his pocket. Then we left Hagrid's."

"What happened next?"

"We thought we heard Buckbeak's execution, and then we were going back to Hogwarts. Snuffles - er - a huge dog knocked us down then drug Ron underneath the Whomping Willow. Harry and I were knocked into the Whomping Willow when Crookshanks saved us by pressing the knot on the trunk. You _do know about the knot on the trunk, right?" He nodded, and Hermione continued. "We followed this long tunnel and came out in the Shrieking Shack."_

"What did you see?" He asked as if he hadn't heard the story already, but strangely, Hermione didn't mind.

"Nothing, but there was a trail where someone had been dragged through the dust, so we followed that. It went into a room, and Ron was sitting on a bed clutching his leg."

"Was it broken?"

"Yes. Ron was trying to warn us to get out, but we wouldn't leave him. He tried to tell us Sirius was an Animagus, but we didn't understand."

"I noticed you referred to my client as 'Sirius.'" Mr. Porgy looked down at his manicured nails. "Are you on friendly terms?"

Hermione glanced at Sirius. His chained hands were resting on the table, and he was staring emptily into space.

Hermione grinned. "Yes, sir. We most certainly are."

"Please continue with your story, Miss Granger. You were telling the court that my client is an Animagus."

"Oh, yeah. Ron was telling us to get out, but we didn't understand until Sirius came into the room and took our wands with Ron's. Then he told Harry he had hoped he would come for Ron, and that Harry's dad would have done the same for him. Then Harry punched him, and I must admit that I hit Sirius as well, when Professor… I mean, Remus Lupin came in."

"How did he know you were there?"

"He had been looking at the Marauder's Map and had seen us disappear under the Whomping Willow."

The lawyer waved a hand at someone, and a young man brought forward the Map. Mr. Porgy held it up so the court could see it was blank. He set it down in front of Hermione. She looked up at Harry, he nodded, and Hermione took out her wand. She touched it to the parchment and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Mr. Porgy lifted the parchment again for the court to see the thin lines spreading and cris-crossing the paper.

"Can you identify what this map is showing?"

"Yes. It's Hogwarts."

"Please continue with your story."

Hermione put her wand away. "Anyway, Remus came in and helped Sirius off the floor. I yelled at him and told Harry and Ron he was a werewolf. He admitted it. Then he told us about how James, Peter, and Sirius became Animagi in order to be with him when he transformed. Then he told us about after they graduated, and Sirius became their Secret-Keeper. Then Sirius told us how he convinced the Potters to make Peter their Secret-Keeper because he thought Peter wasn't as obvious a choice as he was. On Halloween, Sirius went to Peter's, and he wasn't there. He said it didn't feel right, and went to the Potters'. It was, of course, destroyed. Hagrid arrived next, and he took Harry. Then Sirius tracked down Peter, but Peter blew up the street and escaped into the sewers. Sirius was blamed for the crimes. In the middle of them telling us all this, Professor Snape showed up and tried to take Sirius to the Dementors. We… er… we knocked him out."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Harry, Ron, and I. All three of us cast a Disarming Spell at the same time because he insulted Harry's dad."

"What did he say?"

"Do I have to repeat it?"

"It might help your friend."

Hermione sighed. "He said that Harry's dad deserved what he got, and Harry would've been better off if he had been killed too."

Sirius emitted a low growl, but his eyes didn't move.

Hermione resumed her story. "Anyway, Remus and Sirius made Peter reveal himself. Peter begged us to help, and Harry did keep Sirius and Remus from killing him. Peter escaped when Remus began transforming into a werewolf, and Harry and I went to the Hospital Wing."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You may step down now."

"Thank you."

The hours ticked by. Harry testified about rescuing Sirius and his Godfather's role in his decisions. Ron testified about his honesty. Dumbledore testified about his records, and Lupin testified about the days they had spent together as children. When Snape took the stands, the prosecution gained quite a bit of support, but so far, Sirius seemed to have a fair chance.

"Will the defendant please take the stand?"

Sirius slowly stood up and trudged to the box. His feet were shackled together as well as his hands. His eyes were hollow, and Harry started when Sirius looked at him with a nervous grin. The hand he placed on the Bible was thin and bony. It almost seemed as if he hadn't eaten.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"Yeah." His voice was gruff, and its coldness made Hermione shiver.

"Please be seated."

Mr. Porgy went first. "Do you agree with all of the testimony given so far?"

"No."

"What do you disagree with then?"

"I would _never_ brainwash a bunch of kids."

"So you are objecting to Mr. Snape's testimony then."

"That's right."

"Are you an Animagus?"

"You bet."

"Will you transfigure for the court please?"

He did. Several people screamed, "The Grim!" and pointed their fingers. Sirius changed back with a mischievous grin.

"Is there anything you wish to add?"

"Not really."

"Your witness."

Mr. Bess slowly approached Sirius with the air of a bargain hunter slowly moving towards the Sample table. Sirius began to growl. Mr. Bess took a step back.

The judge glared at Sirius. "Mr. Black, please restrain your primeval habits."

Sirius slowly relaxed and stopped baring his teeth. Mr. Bess came no closer.

"Now, Mr. Black, how did you manage to escape Azkaban?"

Sirius told his story, much as everyone else had. It was almost identical, but more elaborate with description of finding his way to Hogwarts. He told the court about winning Crookshanks' trust. He told them of the Dementors closing in on him, and his escape from Flitwick's office. The judge had to intervene several times between the two men, but the story was nevertheless completed. Sirius returned to his seat like a frisky puppy coming home for its meal.

The judge exited from the room and did not come back for several hours. The time ticked slowly by, and Hermione passed it in the most boring manner possible. She created useless quadratic equations from random points on a Cartesian plane, then converted them to vertex form, and found the roots. Harry kept looking at the scrap paper she had found underneath her seat and quickly turning his head, frightened of the numbers he saw there. Lupin busied himself with a textbook and a lesson plan.

Ron pulled the hem from his cuff and taught Professor Dumbledore to play Cat's Cradle. The Headmaster was fascinated with the simple loop of string. "Look, Seaverus! Jacob's Ladder!" Professor Snape glared at the thread, willing it to catch fire. After five minutes of staring, he gave up and returned to mumbling the recipes for complicated Potions to himself.

The judge returned back to his seat. His wig was slightly askew, and it was apparent he had done some heavy thinking. "I have reviewed the facts with endless care. I have gone over the testimonies and tried to be as fair as possible. After much consideration, I have decided Sirius Black is _not guilty."_

"WOO-HOO!" Sirius jumped out of his seat, and his chains evaporated. He jumped the railing and kissed the judge. "Thank you, thank you, _thank__ you!" Sirius ran into the stands and jumped on Harry's back. Harry gasped for breath, then collapsed on the floor in a heap of arms and legs. Sirius scrambled up then lunged for Hermione. Grabbing the back of her head, he planted a firm kiss on her lips. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have shoved him away and cursed him to Kingdom Come, but her brain must have burnt a fuse, because she couldn't seem to think._

"Mr. Black, I suggest you sit down before I imprison you for child molesting." The judge blinked his eyes and by the time they had opened, Sirius was sitting back in his chair with his hands folded neatly on top of the table. "Now then, in compensation for your twelve year imprisonment in Azkaban, the Ministry will provide you with 3,000 Galleons," he promised as Sirius fell out of his seat, "and an excellent recommendation in the event you would like a job." This time, Sirius kissed the judge. "Get him out of my sight!" he shrieked and fled into his office.

Sirius grinned at Dumbledore. Dumbledore grinned back. "Look! Cup and Saucer!" They all laughed until Professor Snape came up from behind and tapped Hermione on the shoulder.

He said, "We must interview him before he loses all hope of sanity."

Hermione shrugged and nudged Sirius's elbow. He looked down at her, paused for a moment when she didn't say anything, and snapped his fingers as he remembered. "Just a minute Hermione. I'll meet you upstairs, all right?" She nodded, and Professor Snape and Hermione left the room.

The stairs were broad and spiraled upward. The interview was scheduled to be on the twelfth story, and the courtroom was on the second. Hermione's legs ached from too much sitting, so she sat on the banister and cast a charm that made her slowly slide upwards. Professor Snape, ever the stiff-necked role model, glared at her and continued to walk up the stairs. "Professor Snape, I was wondering whether I should ask the questions or record the answer."

Professor Snape did not turn to look at her as he answered her. "I brought along an enchanted quill that will record every word spoken at the interview. We will both ask questions."

Hermione's next words were more a command than a question. "We will only ask about how he became an Animagi, not how it affected his life, correct?"

He glared at her from the corner of his eye. "If you are suggesting that I would be that childish, Miss Granger, I suggest you - "

"No, Professor. I wasn't saying that at all."

He didn't respond. Hermione gave up her attempt at conversation as they passed the fifth story, and for the next fifteen minutes, Hermione rode and Snape walked up the stairs. 

They reached the office reserved for their purpose. A large mirror was the only decoration of the guacamole-colored walls. It had no frame, but it shone like the cleanest lake, and Hermione thrust her hands in her pockets to prevent herself from touching it. Professor Snape sat down in the most over-bearing chair in the room. It was upholstered in worn brown leather with gold trim. Hermione took the smaller wicker chair painted in white with a flowery, over-stuffed cushion tied to the seat. Professor Snape sneered, but Hermione ignored him.

Sirius burst in a moment later. He panted as he caught his breath, and the black quill Professor Snape had enchanted began scribbling away on a fresh sheet of parchment furiously. Hermione's brain was flying at approximately the same speed. 

"Sorry about holding you guys up," he apologized with a grin. He hesitated when he saw the brown chair that seemed to be at least fifty years old and had apparently survived three hurricanes. Taking his chances, he gingerly sat on the edge and folded his arms over his chest. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you begin to research about becoming an Animagus?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, that's easy. I paid attention in class, and whenever Professor McGonagall mentioned a text, I wrote it down then checked it out from the Hogwarts Library. I looked up shape-shifters, ancient legends of wizards or witches who could change form, anything that might give me a lead."

"Did you ever look outside of Hogwarts?"

"Well, our project took its largest leaps over the summer. Most of the books we used then were the ones lying around the house. James had the best ones. Remus refused to lend us any of his books; he didn't really approve and kept reminding us of the danger we were putting ourselves in. Nevertheless, he grinned to himself whenever we started talking about it. Peter didn't have anything worth our time, and I dragged my parents out to the bookstores whenever we got the chance to go."

"How did you explain this sudden interest in Transfiguration to your elders?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, that is not relevant."

"Oh, come off it Snape. I don't mind. Now, the casual onlooker will just want a simple explanation and then they won't ask again. An extra credit project will suffice for this purpose, or just an interest in the topic, or something simple. Someone you come into normal contact with will most certainly notice, and this is where your answer can get tricky. If they've known you long enough to know your personal habits, your answer has to seem natural. You should probably prepare for this one, so you don't stumble around. That'll give away that you're lying for sure. Usually you need a personal project, or you're trying to find out something about somebody. If you're looking up something academic, you could say that your Professor asked you to do a special project for them. We told Lily that Professor McGonagall had agreed to exempt our final exams if we did an extensive project about Animagi, and we had promised that we wouldn't tell anyone, so she couldn't ask her either. _Some people we just told to go f - " Sirius paused. Professor Snape was glaring at him, silently daring him to finish his sentence. Hermione was watching the two men with the most profound interest. The enchanted quill was hovering over the parchment, waiting for more words to write. "To go feed themselves." Hermione grinned to herself._

"Next question?" Sirius squeaked. "Ahem." Snape's leer had returned, and he sat smugly in his seat.

"Did you use wandless magic?"

"Not the first time. A wand carries a bit of your essence in it, so to get the feel of the person, the spell should be cast with the person's wand." Hermione groaned and slumped down in her chair. "Is that a problem?"

"Just keep talking, Black," Snape spat.

"Fine," he growled with the attitude of a put-off teenager. "Anyway, using a wand also lets the caster control what they become. After that, you don't really need a wand. You just need the will and the strength to transform. Next question."

"What does it feel like when you transform?"

Sirius paused. "Give me a second. I have to think of how to phrase this without scaring you." Hermione's eyes widened, and Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, it's kind of like you're suddenly made of Play-doh, and everything about you is being gently reshaped. One time, Remus described his transformation into a werewolf. He said it was like his bones were being cracked and placed back in an order that didn't feel right, and then they solidified. It's _not like that. It's a gentle changing, like slipping on a bed of pebbles into a shallow lake; you can't tell when you've begun, and you only realize you've changed once you're finished. It's almost soothing. But if the moment is more urgent, and you're trying to transfer quickly, it's like someone took you and threw you into a swimming pool. It all depends on how fast you're transforming."_

"Miss Granger," Snape interrupted, standing up. "I have to leave. When this interview is over, floo to Dumbledore's office with this." He handed her a small drawstring pouch. "Tell the Headmaster that business arose which I needed to attend to, and all students need to be accounted for. I will return when I can." Hermione nodded as the color drained from her face.

Sirius watched him leave, and when the door closed, he whispered to Hermione, "What's going on?"

"Ask me later." With a shake of her head, she asked the next question. "When you first transformed, was there anything special that changed about your surroundings?"

"Yeah. It was like a large cloud of fog enveloped us, and I got a _very_ strong whiff of rum. It knocked us all out."

The interview continued for another hour. Eventually Sirius had given Hermione all the information he could, and Hermione had run out of questions. Sirius stood up out of the brown leather chair he had taken, and Hermione rose from her wicker chair. "Well, Hermione. I'm off." He placed his arm over her shoulders, and after cramming the quill and parchment into her pocket, they walked out the door.

"So what are you planning to do?" Hermione asked as she and Sirius slid gently down the banister.

"Well, I was planning on spending the weekend with Harry catching up on normal stuff. Usually I'm telling him to watch his back and not to go looking for trouble, but I want to just sit down and talk about Quidditch and girls and - "

"You know, he's got a huge list of questions he wants to ask you about his parents."

Sirius blinked. "I had a feeling something like that would happen."

"It's three feet long."

Sirius almost fell off the railing. As Hermione helped him back on, she talked him down. "You have to realize that he grew up not knowing _anything. He was fifteen when he finally found out what their jobs were! Sirius, you and Remus are the only link he has to the actual _people_ they were, and Remus doesn't like to talk about it. Oh, sure. Dumbledore can tell him about the important things they did. However, you're the one who knows humiliating stories about them. You can tell Harry how his dad proposed to his mom."_

"All right! All right! I get the picture."

"After you spend time with Harry, what are you going to do then?"

"I think I'll start small. I want to work with dragons."

It was Hermione's turn to fall nearly off the banister.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. I've always wanted to work with dragons. I began studying for it when I'd left Hogwarts. Then the Ministry began to offer Auror training free, and I couldn't pass that up. They kicked me out, though." He grinned.

"It's not that funny, Sirius. No wonder everyone thought you were Voldemort's Heir."

They had reached the bottom floor, and they both hopped off. "You could pass Auror College, Sirius. It would really help your public image. Promise me you'll think about it."

"I promise."

Sirius embraced Hermione in a bear hug, then ran outside shouting, "Look at me! You can't arrest me! Ha ha! I'M FREE!"

Hermione ran to the tall marble fireplace that was eternally lit. She opened the pouch and threw purple dust into the flames. "Dumbledore's office!" she shouted and was whisked away in a cloud of ash.

She stumbled out of her Headmaster's fireplace and scrambled up to find herself nose-to-nose with the very man she had wanted to see. "Professor Dumbledore! Professor Snape got summoned - "

It seemed someone else had urgent business with the Headmaster. At that moment, Ron burst in, waving a yellowed sheet of parchment in the air. "Professor Dumbledore! Harry's gone!"

Professor Dumbledore sighed and steadied himself on the fireplace mantle. "It is as I feared, then. Harry will find it much harder to escape from Voldemort this year."

A/N: I would like to point out that killing me will not produce the next chapter. ;D

Well, I must say this is the first cliffhanger. Everything else has wrapped itself up neatly. So hey! Cut me some slack. I've been nice to you guys _so far... insert malevolent laughter..._

Rebecca Anne – Don't worry too much about relationships. You'll become easily confused. 

**Helena** – I like you J I agree totally with your opinions of Ron. PMS isn't actual magic. Ron is easily confused and Arthur Weasley explained it to him as a sort of "Monthly Magic." Hermione's magic is something more special, as you will see in chapters to come.

**Char ****York** – Yup. All men are bastards.

**Miwi**** – I hate Ron too. Just in case that wasn't obvious already.**

**Lizzybeth** – I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to take you into many more of Hermione's classes. There's too much going on in the hallways (if you get my meaning). And I think you exaggerated a little bit in your review.

**Miley**** Hauke – Thanks so much for telling me these things. It really helps, and I appreciate it. And of course Snape would call Voldie by his name. He's a Death Eater; why wouldn't he?**

**Julz** – **You know, I like you. You include very flattering reviews, and I get the sense that you really think about things. As with some of your reviews from TiP, you don't seem to be afraid to criticize a writer' s work. Just make sure you continue that; you'll receive a lot of favor that way.**

If you would like me to e-mail you when I have updated this story, please include your e-mail with your review.


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I'm too tired for this… Besides, JK Rowling has stated she enjoys fanfiction.

The song Sirius sings later in this chapter is from the MGM motion picture, _Singin__' in the Rain_, starring Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds.

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Five

Wee Small Hours

"When the sun is high in the afternoon sky,  
You can always find something to do,  
But from dusk 'til dawn,  
As the clock ticks on,  
Something happens to you."

Carly Simon

Mondays, as a general rule, suck. This does not always hold true, and there _are_ exceptions. Nevertheless, do not make plans for Monday requiring luck to come together. Birthday parties get rained out, and the power lines breaking interrupt family reunions. This particular Monday was no different. However, the past few days had seemed like Mondays as well.

Hermione crawled out of bed that morning that morning with even less enthusiasm than the past few days. An ice cold shower woke her up enough that she could identify what colours she was wearing.

That weekend, she and Justin had been constantly hounded with cases of people who had been "kidnapped." They usually had gone to the bathroom, were taking an afternoon nap, or in Ron Weasley's case, had made a spontaneous raid on the Hogwarts kitchens. Hermione had confiscated all of his sugar-based loot as punishment for him and a reward for herself.

As Hermione fumbled towards the Great Hall for breakfast that day, students seemed to part before her. Hermione double-checked her bag to make sure she wasn't carrying two stone tablets engraved with Hebrew, but of course she had none. The real reason was most students had been shouted at, turned into pigs, and were forced to spend ten minutes squealing for mercy.

Hermione slid into the seat next to Ron. "Hey," he whispered quietly. Hermione didn't respond with words but instead intertwined her fingers with his and leaned her forehead against his shoulders. "Do you want to talk?" he asked. Hermione shook her head. "Damn," he muttered.

Hermione lifted her head. "Did _you_ want to talk?" she asked, thunderstruck. She couldn't think of an instance when Ron had admitted to anyone that he needed to get something off his chest.

"Well, yeah. I'm worried about Harry."

"So am I." She put her head back on his shoulder.

"I know, and I think we could relate better with each other than with anyone else." Hermione nodded. "So do you want to meet in the Common Room?" Hermione shook her head. "Your room, I suppose?" She nodded.

"Come on, then. Eat some breakfast. You'll feel better."

"No, I won't," Hermione mumbled. She did manage to sit up and reach for a piece of toast, though. "I'll just bloat."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, 'Mione. If an armload of chocolate doesn't make you bloat, eggs won't either." To enforce his point, he dished some onto her plate.

"Eggs are cholesterol bombs," she said after finishing her orange juice.

"Chocolates are sugar bombs," Ron retorted. "And yet you think it's all right to stuff yourself on those."

He would never understand. Chocolates are more than comfort food; chocolate is every girl's best friend, equipped with delectable shoulders to cry on.

Hermione continued poking at her eggs until Ron gave up trying to get her to eat them. They stood up to go when Dumbledore began tapping his glass. Ron and Hermione turned around to return to their seats, but the Headmaster waved them on.

They passed through the halls in silence, but more than words passed between them. Ron carried Hermione's books for her, which was no easy task, and he still managed to find an extra arm to wrap around her waist as the walked together. They said nothing, but they felt each other's concern.

They were also the first students to arrive to their Potions class. The place was darker than usual. The windows hadn't been opened except for one shutter creaking on its hinges. Three candles were flickering into non-existence as their wicks were burning out. With a nod, both Hermione and Ron pulled out their wands. "_Lumos_," they whispered. Light flashed around them, and Ron gasped at the dozens of spiders' webs that littered every surface. Hermione's eyes immediately focused on a stone table levitating at the front of the glass.

She began to move towards it and paused when she realized the floor was covered with a swirling mist. '_Odd…_' she thought. '_The Dungeons never get this filthy._' She moved forward to the tablet. It was engraved with something she didn't recognize, and even if she could have, the light was too feeble.

"_Illuminario_," she whispered and tapped her wand to the stone. The letters lit up, and Hermione sighed when she saw they were runes. She dropped that class, but a spell she had used to study came to her mind. "_Ansuz__ English_." She ran the tip of her wand over the lines of runes, and the words were translated so she could read them. "Class is being held outside this week." Hermione nodded to herself then turned around to face Ron who was trying to find a way to retreat to the hallways but still look like he was protecting her.

"Come on, Ron," she said, grinning. "Class is outside."

" Let's go then!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway and upstairs. They managed to meet all of their classmates along the way, and the entire class was gathered outside on the front steps of the castle by the time the bell rang.

No one was out there to meet them. Draco Malfoy was the first to voice his opinions. "How typical. Mudblood Granger, Perfection extraordinaire, convinces the rest of us that class is _outside_ for once!" The rest of the Slytherins nodded and clumped together to mumble among themselves.

Hermione was somewhat alone near the edge of the stairs. "I don't understand it," she muttered to herself. "That spell has always worked perfectly before."

"Of course it has. The others just don't have enough patience for my directions," a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione spun around. "Sirius!"

"That's Professor Black to you." He grinned.

"Sorry." Hermione smiled back.

"Class!" Sirius barked. The other students jumped then turned to face their substitute teacher, and Draco Malfoy turned paler than usual. "I have no earthly idea how your Potions Master usually begins class, but I am sure that this is not it! As much as it grieves me to say it, I am not going to be much different than what you deal with on a normal basis!" The class groaned. A snap of Sirius' fingers produced a booming sound that made everyone's back straighten.

Sirius glared at them for a moment, daring anyone to so much as scratch their nose. When he was satisfied, he spoke. "Now it turns out that Professor Sprout's Mud-Eaters are getting a little hungry this year, so Headmaster Dumbledore has given me permission to help them out a little. We will be brewing a large pot of-"

"Mud?" Malfoy grinned, and the other Slytherins sniggered openly. The Gryffindors merely tried to look like innocent by-standers.

"Twenty-five points off Slytherin for open mockery of this class. Keep your trap shut, Malfoy, and you might manage to keep your house from losing every point it's got." Ron grinned. "What I was saying before Malfoy interrupted was that this class will brew, as a group, a Rain Potion. I have enlarged a cauldron halfway between the Great Lake and the Greenhouses. Now let's go." He turned as if to leave and then seemed to think better of it. "I believe I forgot to mention that we will be making a human sacrifice in this lesson." In one motion, Malfoy was pushed to the front of the group. He had never looked so sheepish, but Sirius merely laughed. He walked off saying something about "gullible Slytherins…"

Later, as the students were rushing inside to escape the tumult of rain, Hermione and Ron were standing underneath a spell's rain-shield. Sirius had conjured an umbrella and was dancing around in a soaking Hawaiian shirt and pair of leather pants. "Are you coming inside?" Ron yelled over a clap of thunder.

His only response was, "_I'm laughing at clouds, so dark up above! The sun's in my heart…_"

Hermione laughed, and as she and Ron went inside, she tried to explain it to him. Needless to say, Ron saw no point in an American singing in the rain, so they gave up.

They weren't the only ones to give up that day.

* * *

"_Imperio_."

A little voice whispered, "Come on, stand up." He no longer had the will to resist, nor the strength to properly comply.

"_Crucio_."

For the fourth time that day, an Unforgivable Curse was uttered in the dark cellar that was sure to be Harry Potter's grave. Harry immediately crumpled under the intense pain he felt in every bone and muscle. He did not even have the strength to scream, but instead he started dry-retching. The curse seemed to last an eternity, but Harry had met eternity before. This brief exchange would be no different.

"Stand up." A boot connected with his side when Harry tried to comply but collapsed back to the floor. "Stand up and face your death, Potter." Another kick caused Harry to vomit what little food had been in his stomach. "_Wingardium__ Leviosa_," the Death Eater growled. As Harry's limp body floated in front of the cloaked stranger, he conjured a wet washcloth and smacked it into Harry's face. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to clean up your own sick? Oh, that's right," he sneered. "Your mother's _dead_." He released the levitation spell and walked away. The thick oak door slammed shut and was sealed with magic. Even if Harry had the strength to crawl to the door and attempt to escape on foot, they had taken his wand. It had been a Death Eater with black eyes who had pocketed it, and as improbable as it seemed, Harry hoped it had been Professor Snape.

Harry crawled back the small pile of straw he had been sleeping on for the past three days. As he curled up to sleep, he began thinking about Hogwarts and all the people so precious to him. He thought of Fawkes, and as he went over each of the bird's bright and fiery feathers, a phoenix song came to his ears. His spirit lifted, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office reading the Daily Prophet. Softly, Fawkes started whistling. The Headmaster peered over his shoulder in time to a see a tear fall from the phoenix's cheek and disappear before it touched the ground. The phoenix song faded. 

"So," Dumbledore whispered quietly. "Harry is still alive."

* * *

It was both an Auror's dream and nightmare. Approximately twenty Death Eaters were gathered around a table, masks off and wands out. The only Death Eaters that weren't there were the LeStranges, Voldemort's ever-loyal servants. However, Voldemort had become more and more obsessed with Harry Potter and less concerned about the Death Eaters who were being killed in action. Everyone agreed something needed to be done about their master and his current streak of insanity. Debate was flying across the table. Words were loud and rapid between them.

"Silence!" roared Lucius Malfoy. He turned to face Snape. "Severus, you have much experience in deceiving the Dark Lord and avoiding his attentions. What do you say we should do with the boy?"

Snape sighed. "This is not a matter that will avoid our Master's attention. Even if the Daily Prophet had been told to keep the story quiet, which it wasn't, Lord Voldemort does not easily get a hand on the paper. However, he would quickly find out. He always does. His first step would be to cast a Plotting Spell, which of course wouldn't work. Then he would cast a Helios Charm, to find out if the boy was under sunlight. This is why I told you to put him in the cellar. After that, Voldemort would have to set out to find us, perhaps on foot. It is only a matter of time.

"As I see it, we have three options. We may kill the boy, modify his memory and return him to Dumbledore, or simply hand him over to Voldemort. Now, if we kill the boy, the world will come down around our ears. Not only will the Dark Lord be furious, but also every citizen of the wizarding world will be out for our blood. If we kill him, we kill ourselves. So, needless to say, that option won't work.

"We may be able to modify his memory, and I could take him back to Hogsmeade. However, I will point out that Memory Charms are easily broken. Voldemort did so with Bertha Jorkins, and quite frankly, if Voldemort can do it, we know Dumbledore can. Then, when Voldemort finds us, we will all pay the price. He will be so _enraged_ that we captured Harry Potter and then simply _let him go_ that, mark my words, he will kill us.

"Our third option is simply waiting for the Dark Lord to find us. We will tell him that we found the perfect opportunity to kidnap Harry Potter. We had no way of contacting him to tell him in precaution of the owl becoming intercepted."

"So we wait until he finds us? We have been fortunate not to be discovered for this long!" Nott exclaimed.

"We are fortunate that _Potter_ has lasted this long," Severus growled. "Ten minutes of the Cruciatus Curse every six hours for three days would be enough to kill even the strongest Auror. And then two small bowls of gruel isn't much sustenance either."

Malfoy sneered. "What do you suggest we do, then? Place the boy in the finest room in the house, obey his every command, and offer him every possible opportunity to escape?"

"No," Severus snarled. "I was merely stating that if Potter dies before we can present him to the Dark Lord, I doubt he will be happy with us. Each one of you knows how Voldemort yearns for Harry Potter to fall at the Dark Lord's own hands. If we took that away from him, there wouldn't be enough of us left over for the Ministry to punish."

"We all know the Dark Lord's tricks. We know how he thinks –"

"A rabid dog has the deadliest bite," Snape sneered.

That did it. Around the table seventeen Death Eaters burst into arguments. This was exactly what Snape had wanted. It gave him the chance to check on Potter, something he'd been meaning to do for three days now. Making sure no one was really watching he slipped out of the room and quietly down the stairs to the cellar. He unlocked the door and lit his wand. Glancing around the room, he saw the back of an arm lying on the stone floor beside a pile of straw. Rushing over, he grabbed Harry's shoulders and turned him over. His eyes met only Potter's pale, gaunt face…

He burst into the room upstairs. "You fools!" he hissed, and the room fell silent. "Potter is _dead_!" A hollow silence enraptured the room. Unlike the normal silence Snape usually dealt with in his classroom, this was a silence as eerie as the eye of a frighteningly strong storm.

"You lie," hissed Malfoy. "It's not possible! He can't be dead!" His voice was rapidly rising into a scream of panic.

"You were down there an awfully long time, MacNair? What exactly were you doing?"

"I-I-I… I was…" He turned and fled the room. They could hear his footsteps pound down the hallway and come to a stop at the front entrance. There was a fumbling with chains and locks, and the door swung open with a bang. They gathered at the large window in the room and peaked behind the curtains to watch him run away.

Then something happened they did not expect. Through the open door came a loud voice. "Please, Master, no! I was coming to tell you, I swear it!"

Green light flashed from among the small grove of trees MacNair had dashed into.

"Shit," Avery whispered.

The window exploded, and shards of glass flew through the air like haphazardly thrown daggers, some finding their targets. High-pitched laughter followed.

* * *

Hermione Granger slowly trudged down to the dungeons. She knew Professor Snape wouldn't be there, but the agreement had been that she would wait for 15 minutes for him to arrive, then leave a note that she had attended.

She pushed the door open to find the spider-webs and ancient runes cleared away. The candles had been replaced with new ones, but only half the fog had been removed. Hermione shook her head and cleaned it up with a sweep of her wand. She took a seat and began to wait.

Seven minutes ticked by, and Hermione noticed with a start that the mist had returned. It was crawling underneath a door and spreading throughout the room. Hermione stood up and cautiously walked towards the origin.

She tried the door. She wasn't the least bit surprised to find it locked. There were no actual doorknobs or keyholes, so Hermione knew it wasn't a normal locking charm. Using the wrong counter-spell might result in catastrophe, certainly if the original caster had been Snape. And he certainly would not have used a basic spell.

Hermione couldn't think of any way but one, and she certainly did not approve of it. However, she couldn't be certain of what was gong on behind that door, and if Snape hadn't been able to supervise it for several days, it might need some sort of attention. She grabbed the nearest item, a quill, and prepared her wand for some advanced and certainly trouble-inducing Transfiguration.

"_Adz Vacillate_," With many elaborate twists and waves, magic poured from the tip of her wand and enveloped the quill, morphing it into an axe. Hermione picked it up, waited for its weight to adjust to her grip, and then swung it over her shoulder until the door had been cleared away.

Inside were two cauldrons. One was boiling over. Hermione grabbed two oversized dragonhide gloves and slipped them on her hands. She picked up the cauldron by its handles and slowly walked it over to the large sink in this miniature laboratory. Cautiously she poured it down the drain, and then set the cauldron itself down. Taking off the gloves, she reached for her wand and extinguished the fire it had been sitting on. It had clearly been a simple potion Professor Snape had been planning on taking care of later. '_But then Voldemort put a stop to that_,' thought Hermione to herself.

She peered inside the other cauldron. It was only a quarter full and over extremely low heat. There were several scraps of paper stacked near it. As she picked them up and deciphered the Potions Master's scratchy handwriting, she was pleased to discover this cauldron contained their experiment. Hermione began flipping through his notes, but she stopped in surprise when she found one of her not cards stapled to a piece of parchment. He had boldly underlined it and added a side note: "Pair w/ porcupine quills for potency."

'_So he does value my opinion_,' Hermione thought with satisfaction. '_Well, it's nice to know I'm not wasting my time._'

Glancing quickly at her watch, she noticed that her 15 minutes were gone. She paused when she began to put the notes back. '_No. I can use them more than he can_.' Hermione stuffed them into her pocket. She made another quick decision and took a few jars of handy ingredients she knew she didn't have. She wrote Professor Snape a note and left.

* * *

Spells were flying overhead. Snape had dropped to the floor when glass had blown out of the window, and he had quickly cast an Invisibility Charm over himself. The spell was enormously draining, and he barely had the strength to make the spell last through Lord Voldemort's entrance speech. Nevertheless, when the spells had erupted, Snape was very glad indeed. In all this commotion, no one would notice the door to the cellar swing open of its own accord (Lucius Malfoy had almost fallen on top of him while he was crawling across the floor).

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he gratefully released the spell. As exhausted as he was, he still had work to do. Silently he edged his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he felt a door with a lock, but no handle. Pulling out his wand, he whispered, "_Alohamora_." A quick spark of magic passed between the lock and the tip of his wand, and the door swung open.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and the cellar was filled with dim light. There was the haystack with the boy sprawled out over it, his eyes closed. Snape grabbed his wrist, and using the very last ounce of strength he had, he Apparated back to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Hermione opened her portrait door and stepped inside. She was ready to crash in bed and sleep until the next Ice Age, but no such luck. Most of the candles were lit, and it took her a moment to realize why.

"Sirius! Remus! What are you doing here?"

"Why, Hermione," grinned Sirius Black, "you know all the professors have access to the Head Boy and Girl's dormitories! We just figured we'd be the first to put it to use!" He stood up off the couch and walked over to give her a hug. "Sorry I couldn't do that before you know, but I figured it might get you in more trouble than you can manage to create by yourself."

"Since when do you worry about trouble, Sirius Black?" Hermione asked.

"That's a good question. Moony, pop quiz! When did I last worry about getting in trouble?"

Remus shrugged. "To be quite honest, Padfoot, I have no earthly idea."

"Well, there you go, Hermione. We don't know."

"It's so nice to see both of you again! But why are you here, anyway?"

"Well… um… Moony, do you want to?"

"It doesn't matter, Padfoot. I'll do it." He cleared his throat, and Hermione arched an eyebrow as she sat down in her chair. "We came to apologize for Ron Weasley for not being here himself tonight –"

"And so he sent us instead. So where's the bedroom?" Sirius interrupted. "Just kidding!" he added after Hermione picked up a vase to throw at him.

Remus shook his head and pulled out his wand. "Actually, he sent these instead." He waved his wand, and flowers, Godiva chocolate, and a butterbeer materialized on the coffee table. "And he also requested that we offer you an ear to anything you want to talk about."

Hermione opened the box of chocolates and began sampling. "That's so sweet, you two. Thank you."

"We're all worried, you know," Sirius said after a moment of awkward silence, this time in a serious tone of voice. "I mean, nothing happening for this long is a bad sign. Ow! What was that for?" he growled at Remus. "Oh, Hermione, listen I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that…"

"It's okay… I mean, I… I…" Hermione drew her knees to her chin. "I just want him to be safe, you know?" she sniffled. "I mean, he's always come back, like he's supposed to, and now… I don't know anymore…"

Remus leaned towards Hermione and took one of her hands in his. She noticed it was a little raw in some places. "It's going to be okay. We'll make it either way, right? Come on, now. We can't help Harry like this."

"Well then how do we help him?" Hermione snapped without looking up. "Go hunt down Voldemort and demand him back?"

"I didn't say that, Hermione. Here, have some butterbeer. That's it. Come on, let's get out of here. Do you want to go to the lake? It always made me feel better."

"Really? I always like the Astronomy Tower myself," Sirius interjected with a grin.

"You went there when you were horny, Padfoot. When you felt blue you went to the kitchens."

"Oh yeah. I forgot."

Hermione laughed. "I think I'll be all right in a minute. I just need a moment alone."

"Oh, okay. Well, we'll leave you alone then. Come on Sirius."

"Aw, do we have to?"

"Sirius. _Now_," Lupin growled.

"Well, I'm being summoned. I bid thee good night, Hermione," he said with a mock bow.

She laughed. "Well, thank you two for coming. Good night."

"Good night." She closed the door behind them and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally. Alone."

She locked the portrait behind her and walked off to bed, not knowing that the one thing she had been hoping for during the past few days was stumbling towards her, cursing as it stubbed its toe on a stone.


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter in any way. I'm just borrowing them.

A/N: It's amazing. I'm still working on this. Thanks for the encouragement everyone!

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Six:  
Make Someone Happy

"Fame, if you win it,  
Comes and goes in a minute.  
Where's real stuff in life  
To cling to?" –

Jimmy Durante

Hagrid was up late that night, tending to his pumpkin patch. He was humming one of his favorite Halloween tunes as he checked on his prized pumpkin of the year. He paused for a moment when he heard something approaching his hut.

"Hagrid, you oaf… Help me…" Severus managed to gasp out before he collapsed.

Hagrid raced around to the back of his hut to find the Potions Master collapsed in front of his door with an unconscious Harry lying on top of him. "Ya done right good, Perfessor." Hagrid picked up Snape and took him inside, laying him in his bed. After tucking him in like a baby doll, he went back outside and scooped up Harry in his arms. He set off for the castle, Fang at his heels.

* * *

Hermione and Ron turned around and stared at Harry. "Did you hear something?" asked Ron. 

"I thought I heard him move." Hermione looked him over. "Oh well. It doesn't matter. Madame Pomfrey said he'd be fine." She gave him a longing glance before turning back around. "I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he is. Like you said earlier, he's always fine. I wonder what happened."

"Dumbledore said he would make an announcement after Professor Snape recovered." Hermione looked across the Hospital Wing to where Professor Snape was sitting up in his bed reading. Hermione hadn't yet gotten the chance to talk to him. Ron had always been by her side. While it was a comfort knowing Ron was near, he was becoming a bit of a nuisance. She couldn't quite get around to all the stuff on her agenda – Ron simply didn't have the patience. And although she felt she needed to be near Harry in case something happened, she knew there were things more constructive for her to be doing. Working on the Animagus potion, for instance. But she couldn't do that in front of Ron. He'd freak out like he had earlier, never mind that he might blow himself up.

She felt something prod her shoulder. "Hermione? Are you there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Ron. I was thinking about something."

"I know that look. You were off somewhere. Thinking bout your mum and dad?"

This question took Hermione by surprise. She hardly ever thought about her parents at all during school, except to perhaps respond to the occasional letter they sent her. Come to think of it, she wrote more owls to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley than her own parents. "No, Ron. I wasn't thinking about my parents. It doesn't matter."

He shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Silence followed for quite some time. Hermione hadn't realized that the two of them had so little to talk about without Harry. Hermione scraped her mind for something to talk about. The answer was obvious.

"How are you doing on your homework?" she asked although she already knew the answer.

"Well, I… er… I do have a _little _catching up to do…"

"_Ronald Weasley_," Hermione sighed, exasperated. "You know better than that. Go get it done."

"But Hermione, I need to stay here in case he needs me."

"I'll be here, Ron. I'll come and get you if anything happens, I promise. Is that fair enough?"

Ron gave a longing glance at the unconscious Harry, and Hermione knew it was going to take a bit more to convince him to leave. Unfortunately Professor Snape _was_ conscious and could take off points if she said the wrong thing. "I'll play you a game of chess tomorrow if you finish your homework." That did the trick. Everyone had gotten so sick of Ron beating them in wizard's chess that they had stopped playing, and Ron was forced to save up and buy an independent set that could play him on his own. Nevertheless, Hermione knew he missed the interaction with someone across the board. Ron agreed to finish his homework by nightfall and took off.

Hermione gave Harry one last look-over and tucked the sheets around him snugly before crossing the room. When she pulled up a chair beside his bed, Professor Snape didn't even close his book to acknowledge her. Hermione wasn't very surprised. She was from the House of Gryffindor. This was to be expected. She took a deep breath and started. "Professor, I know that it wasn't a part of our deal, but while you were… gone, I continued work on the Animagus potion. I went into the restricted section of the library to do some research. I turned up a few prospects like past experiments and some ingredients that might be useful to investigate."

Professor Snape laid down his book and peered at her. "Like what for instance?"

"Well, I was talking to Madam Pince about rare substances, and she mentioned veela hair. She wouldn't allow me to research veela hair without permission from Professor Dumbledore. She said that the book containing the information was once used in a very inappropriate manner and is therefore one of the most classified books on her shelves."

Professor Snape nodded. "I recall that incident. One of the most effective disasters I have seen at Hogwarts in the past ten years. At any rate, veela hair would be too expensive and too unpredictable to work with."

Hermione nodded. "I realized that. It was just a suggestion." Now she had to explain the trickier part. "You also left a potion brewing when you left. I had to break down your door with an axe to take care of it." She looked at her shoes. "I followed procedure with eliminating a potion manually. I disposed of the axe and notified Mr. Filch to clean up the pieces of your door. I also took some notes and ingredients you had left, and I've been working on building a basic solution so we can begin modifying and adding ingredients." She was in trouble, and she knew it. What she had committed was breaking and entering along with theft.

Professor Snape looked at Hermione or the top of her head rather. To be quite honest, he was impressed with the witch. Despite her usual complete lack of regard for rules and respect for personal property, she had taken the duty of their experiment upon herself while he had been absent. She knew she didn't have to, and he was sure she had plenty of other work to occupy herself.

Nevertheless, he had an image to maintain. "Well, Miss Granger, I must say your recklessness and mistreatment of school rules has not improved over a period of seven years. For destroying my property, that's twenty points from Gryffindor." He saw Hermione grimace. "Also, for taking on the responsibility of this project while I was preoccupied showed a true dedication to your work efforts. I…" he paused, "_award_ Gryffindor fifteen points."

Hermione jerked up. Had she lost it? Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, gave Gryffindor house points? Sure, he'd just taken points as well, but that wasn't the point. He had compensated for it. It was puzzling indeed, but it wasn't significant enough to worry about.

Professor Snape highlighted the line he was on with his wand and closed the book. "So tell me what you used for a potion base."

Hermione grinned. "It was quite simple really. I researched several potions with results similar to what we want. I made a list of the ingredients and their quantities. I separated the crucial ingredients, and compared the basic ingredients between each. I then analyzed what would be the most stable but potent combinations, selected the nine ingredients in the quantities I thought best and combined them. It has produced a very stable base to work from. It's sitting in my den right now."

Professor Snape arched a thin eyebrow. Some students never ceased to amaze him, although the context varied. Occasionally there came a student who impressed him. It would seem Hermione would remain one of those students. Rarely had a student been so adept at Potions, much less a Gryffindor _girl_. "Well, Miss Granger, I must indeed thank you for your assistance. Your aid has been most appreciated, and I wish you luck on your future endeavors. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to heal in peace." He picked up his book and continued reading.

Hermione gaped. Had the Potions Master just dismissed her like any ordinary student? She knew she was not an ordinary student! She had just done the most important work for him all on her own! She would not be brushed off her project like this. "I beg your pardon?"

"Miss Granger, unlike most of your fellow students, you don't seem to comprehend when your detention has been served. Your two months is over Miss Granger. Now please run along and leave me be."

Hermione reluctantly got up from her seat. He had bested her in this duel. She returned to the seat next to Harry's bedside fuming. This would require some serious plotting.

* * *

Harry's eyes fluttered open. The whiteness surrounding him was blinding in comparison to the darkness of unconsciousness. He closed his eyes to adjust to the new found light. He heard something stir. He opened his eyes again. "Ron!" he croaked. He flushed at how weak his voice was. He hadn't used it in ages. 

Ron looked at him, rattled. "Harry! Are you awake?"

Harry grinned. "No, I'm a bloody ghost. Do I _look_ awake?"

Ron leapt up from his chair and enveloped Harry in a hug. "I can't believe you're back!"

"I'm here, I promise. Just watch the ribs."

Ron released him, but he was still smiling enormously. "Do you need anything? Water?" He grabbed a nearby pitcher and poured some into a glass. His hands were shaking, and he dropped the pitcher. It smashed into a thousand pieces.

Madam Pomfrey rushed in the room. "Ronald Weasley! I will not have you making any more disturbances in my infirmary!"

Ron pointed at Harry and said, "Madam Pomfrey, look! Harry's awake!" Madam Pomfrey took one look at Harry and screeched. She grabbed Ron by his ample supply of ears and dragged him away. "I'll tell Hermione and Ginny you're up!" he shouted to Harry before the door slammed shut in his face. He spun around on his heel and tore off for Gryffindor Tower.

He burst past the Fat Lady into the Common Room. Everyone looked up from what they were doing. "Harry's awake!" he cried. Sparks and voices erupted with glee.

Ginny pushed her way past a mob of ecstatic people and faced her brother. "How is he?" she demanded.

"Oh, Ginny! He's fine! He's sarcastic and everything!"

"He's sarcastic?" she asked. "You're positive? Oh, Ron!" Ginny gripped her brother in a quick hug then dashed out the door.

Someone noticed the door swinging shut and had an idea. "TO THE INFIRMARY!" he shouted, and before Ron could warn them, he was swept over in the mad dash out the portal. When Ron managed to separate himself from the racing storm, he ran off in a different direction towards Hermione's dorm.

Ron faced Circe, who was scowling down at him as usual. "Circe, you have to let me in!" he pleaded. She sneered and raised her wand. "Harry's awake!" Startled, Circe lost control of her spell and released it on her loom. It fell apart, and all her work raveled away. Circe gave a horrified sob, but she opened nevertheless. Ron dashed inside.

Hermione was in her room by her desk, sorting through stacks of paper, holding the feather tip of her quill between her teeth. "Hermione!" Ron shouted. She yelped and dropped her quill to the floor.

"Ron! What do you mean, surprising me like that? I could-"

"Hermione, Harry's awake!" She clasped her hands over her mouth and ran past him, grabbing her cloak as she ran out the door. Ron followed close behind.

They arrived at the doors to the hospital wing, but couldn't get inside. There was a swarm of people trying to get inside, blocking anyone else's way. Ron pushed his way to the front. "What's going on here?" he shouted, silencing the rest of them.

"Madame Pomfrey won't let us in!" shouted a third-year.

"Well, what did you expect?" asked Ron. No one answered. "Well, okay. Then I would suggest you all go back to Gryffindor tower. I'll let you know when everyone can visit him. In the meantime, I would suggest that those who can should gather up sweets and gifts for Harry to welcome him back to Hogwarts." There was more silence. "LEAVE!" he shouted. Everyone scampered off.

"Nice," said Hermione, grinning.

"Thanks."

"Now what do we do?"

"We go eat lunch." Ron grinned and started walking towards the Great Hall. Hermione shrugged and followed. She needed a good lunch. Maybe it would help her clear up a few things.

* * *

Hermione and Ron were eating their lunch quite merrily. Dumbledore had made an announcement at the beginning of the meal that Harry was conscious and recovering quite well. By Dumbledore's estimate, he'd be back in his classes in about three days. He mentioned nothing of Voldemort. 

Hermione felt something brush slowly across her back. She turned around to find Draco Malfoy leering down at her.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she growled.

"What makes you think I want anything from _you_? Maybe it's _you_ who wants something from _me_, Mudblood."

"10 points from Slytherin for foul language. Watch it Malfoy."

"10 points from Gryffindor for making a threat, _Mudblood_."

Hermione stood up abruptly, knocking over her chair. Slowly and deliberately, she began to draw out her wand. Malfoy knew better than to let her. "_Expelliarmus_" he shouted. Hermione was knocked back, her wand flying out of reach.

At this, everyone in the Great Hall looked up. Hagrid made to stand up, but Professor Dumbledore bade him sit back down with a wave of his hand. More importantly however, all the sixth and seventh year girls paid rigid attention. They had been waiting for Malfoy to pick the wrong enemy.

Malfoy seemed very proud of himself for disarming the Head Girl. He puffed out his chest and tossed back his hair. No doubt he would have strutted given the opportunity.

Hermione shook her head. How very foolish of him. No one ever paid attention to the raw source until it was too late. "When will you learn," she said, "that magic… does not come… from a wand!" With this last word, she darted out her hands. Malfoy expected contact, but he remained untouched. Hermione whistled shrilly, and the note concentrated around her hands and echoed inside Malfoy's skull until he thought it would burst.

In an act of self-defense, he thrust out one of his fists and struck Hermione squarely on the nose. Immediately she opened her eyes and put her hands to her bleeding nose. She stumbled back, overwhelmed by her sudden release of the spell and the shock of being injured.

When Hermione blinked a few times and regained a sense of mind, she noticed something strange. Malfoy had obviously noticed it as well. Every sixth and seventh year girl had risen up from their seats, their wands all pointed at Malfoy's head. The tips were swelling with all the potential spells not yet spoken. Malfoy looked like he was going to soil himself.

"That is enough, I should think," Dumbledore interjected from his chair. All the girls looked at him and sat down.

"I am shocked that such a display of immaturity and violent rivalry has occurred, between a Prefect and Head Girl no less. As punishment, I shall deduct 100 points from Slytherin House from Mr. Malfoy's lack of chivalry and self-control." The Slytherins moaned as the emerald jewels were lost. Malfoy slumped and tried to disappear. Dumbledore continued, just as stern, "For Miss Granger's conduct, I giver her detention with Professor Snape in the dungeons until further notice." Hermione tried to seem horrified but this actually was just what she had been hoping for the moment Dumbledore had intervened.

Hermione sat down at the table. Everyone was giving her looks of sympathy. Hermione wanted to laugh at them all; she was jumping for joy inside. She looked at Professor Dumbledore, and she was sure she saw him wink at her. She winked back.

"Bloody hell, that must stink," Ron mumbled. "You think you're free, and then you're chained up again."

Hermione merely nodded. If she spoke, she'd have to lie through her teeth about how she felt.

* * *

Dumbledore looked up from his papers when a small knock sounded on his door. "Come in, Severus," he called. The door opened and the Potions Master glided in. He took his seat across from Dumbledore's desk. 

"I can tell you that Lucius Malfoy is dead."

Dumbledore nodded. "It was inevitable. Does Draco know?"

"I have not told him yet, but I believe the return of Harry and no news of his father has alerted him."

"Indeed. Were there any other casualties? Who was there?"

"MacNair died at the hands of the Dark Lord. Everyone was there but the LeStranges. It was a revolution among the dark forces. All there believed that the Dark Lord would no longer lead them to triumph. He is obsessed with Potter, and every Death Eater knows it. He no longer cares for his followers, but for the death of those who defy him. He is willing to pay in Death Eater blood for vengeance. All but the LeStranges no longer think he is capable of leading this war. That conflict was epitomized there."

Dumbledore was lost in thought. Snape seized upon this moment to recollect his thoughts.

"Why did they feel it was necessary to kidnap Harry if they simply were in rebellion against Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

"Potter is the only device that will register with the Dark Lord. His life had to hold with the Death Eaters for them to be able to hold sway with their master."

Dumbledore paused. "You may go now, Severus. I must meditate on this for some time." Snape stood up to go. "Oh, and if you find a moment, please send Mr. Malfoy to my office." Snape gave a curt nod and left.

* * *

Hermione slipped down to the dungeons through one of her favorite passageways. Enough snooping and spying had lent her a sturdy knowledge of clear pathways, handy for Head Girl work and also for simply being alone. This day, she was making her way to see Professor Snape in his office. _Alone_. She needed to speak with Professor Snape about detention. She wasn't sure how he would react to being stuck with her again. 

A terrifying thought crept into her mind. Perhaps Professor Snape wouldn't let her work on the potion anymore. Maybe that ship had sailed and she would be stuck pickling ogre eyes. The more she thought, the faster she went until she burst into Professor Snape's office and shouted, "I will _not_ preserve Monopod foot fungus!"

Professor Snape did not even look up from his writing. His quill continued to scratch across the parchment and he growled, "Miss Granger, might I ask what it is that makes you may simply barge into my office at 8 o'clock and state outrageous claims?"

Hermione felt like a fish the way her mouth kept opening and closing. When she hadn't said anything for some time, Snape stopped writing and looked up at her. "Well?" Embarrassed and speechless, Hermione closed her mouth, turned around, and left, the office door closing quietly behind her.

Professor Snape returned to his writing in peace.

Hermione Granger stayed up all night thinking of witty remarks she might have made.


End file.
